


First Do No Harm

by Macx



Series: Fate Lines [3]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Psychic Bond, Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-12
Updated: 2012-05-27
Packaged: 2017-11-03 12:59:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 41,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick runs into more trouble than he can handle on a case involving murder and possible kidnapping. How's that really news?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started sketching out and writing this fic before the whole zaubertrank stuff on the show happened. You could call this an AU where Adalind didn't poison Hank, where Renard isn't after the key (whatever that is) and where everything after the Coins of Zakynthos never happened. So there is no Rosalee either. Sorry!

Christmas time had come as always: suddenly and without warning. At least to many people who found that the 25th was coming closer and closer and they had no gifts shopped, no trees bought and no decorations up.

Detective Nick Burkhardt hadn’t lost a thought about the season. The colder weather and the snow should have been a clue, but he had been too busy running after an elusive creature. It had started with a double murder, a couple living at the outskirts of the park, their throats slashed by a sharp weapon. The coroner hadn’t been able to determine what kind of weapon it had been, just that it had been very, very sharp. The crime scene unit was still puzzling over what it might have been. 

Nick and Hank had been on the case right away, especially when it became clear that the two children of the pair had gone missing. No one had seen the boys and there had been no trace of them either. Daniel and Marcus had simply disappeared and everyone feared that the murderer might have either taken them or disposed of them because they had been witnesses.

Things had gone the Grimm way – the weird way, if Nick was any judge because all things Grimm were still weird – when CSU had discovered skin particles. Lizard skin particles.

Species unknown. Not even the slightest reference to anything on file.

It had been the first clue.

Talking to Monroe had confirmed that yes, there were lizard-like wesen that were extremely elusive, even for creatures, and the Grimm books were not a big help.

So the Grimm had come out to play, hunting down clues, using whatever resources he had – except for his mate. Nick had always kept Renard’s involvement into his Grimm investigations at a absolute minimum. Translation: no involvement at all! He wouldn’t ask Sean for information or help, and while the captain was expecting reports, the regnant had come to accept that different handling. Even if he didn’t really like it.

In the end Nick had the creature cornered, with a few more bruises to show, accompanied by a mild concussion, slash marks across his back.

He didn’t figure that there was a second one.

He had had no back up with him because he hadn’t wanted to drag Monroe into danger once again.

Now he paid for it.

Something collided with his back, pain exploded from the wounds, and then there was the shock of cold water as he crashed into the lake, through the thin layer of ice that readily gave way underneath him.

There was a scream of denial that wasn’t him.

The water was liquid ice, biting into his unprotected skin. Soon the only sensation was that of his lungs burning in his chest, his mind screaming for him to breathe. The logical part reminded him that all he could breathe was water, which would mean suffocation. The survivor in him refused to give in, had him fight.

His head broke through the water and he gulped in breaths of air, coughing wildly. His lips were tinged blue and he was totally breathless. Nick groped helplessly for something to hold onto. 

Someone grabbed him. Voices babbled.

Claws bit into his skin, but he didn’t really feel it.

Wide gray eyes stared helplessly at reptilian ones and part of him, a hysterical part, realized that the very creature he had chased was now… pulling him out? He thought he saw another one, hovering protectively next to Daniel and Marcus, the two kidnapped boys.

And they shifted. Lizards? All of them?

The boys looked scared, crying to themselves.

Numb fingers curled around the helping hand and he was hoisted up with what little strength still remained in him. He collapsed on the frosted ground that was all around him, shivering violently, spitting water.

“We never meant for anyone to get hurt,” a voice said.

W-what?

“They took our kin, killed our cousins.”

Huh?

“You have to understand. We don’t kill. We wouldn’t kill. Please…”

The voice grew muffled. Waves of delirium swept over him and he fought to stay conscious.

He was so, so cold.

Nick stared at the creature. The world around him seemed to alternately expand and contract, distances were inconsistent, and the reality of his own physical existence seemed questionable. His hands twitched, numb fingers grasping for something invisible.

“We’ll get you help,” the one who had pulled him out said. 

Help? What?

“Our kind was always on good terms, really!”

Nick had trouble focusing for real now. Delirium threatened to blank out every rational thought and he moaned softly. Warmth. He wanted to be warm. 

There were voices again, in the background, and someone was pulling him away from the water. He felt barely anything. The delirium made way to an abominable feeling of utter cold, which soon turned into just feeling too cold to be comfortable.

Nick closed his eyes; his lungs felt like chips of ice. With a weak sigh he simply surrendered to the darkness.

He was alone.

In the middle of nowhere.

And it was starting to snow.

* * *

Snow was coming down in a light, almost ethereal shower. There was no one on the roads, there was no one in the woods, and there was no one stupid enough to go out in this weather, at this time of night.

Except one.

Stupid Grimm.

Idiot!

Crazy, idiotic, stupid Grimm!

“Why didn’t you call, Nick?” he muttered under his breath as he bounced over the uneven road, the ruts and potholes really getting to his precious little heirloom of a car. “You had to do the hero stuff. You had to go in here alone. Damnit!”

Not that Monroe liked running into danger, but he would do it for Nick. Nick Burkhardt was his best friend – and how ironic was that? – and he would have come along, even in this weather, at this time of the night. But no! Nick had to go off on his own!

Monroe stopped his yellow little bug next to the SUV that was Nick’s car. A fine layer of snow covered the dark metal. Except for the headlights of the bug there was no other source of illumination and the landscape looked dark and peaceful.

_Peaceful my ass_ , Monroe thought as he jumped out and quickly looked around, but there was no one here.

In the muddy, freezing ground were tire tracks and some foot steps, but no other car. Whoever had been here had hightailed it out.

No one here now except…

Nostrils flared.

His breath clouded in front of his face and he felt the sting of the cold. 

Blood. And the smell of Nick. That was unmistakable. He would know that scent everywhere. And Nick’s blood. 

Monroe moved quickly and yanked open the SUV’s door, cursing colorfully when he discovered the unconscious man slumped over the seats, blood saturating his utterly drenched clothes. 

“Damnit, Nick!”

A cell phone lay on the floor, spattered in mud and blood. It was scratched and banged up, but it had worked.

Not that Monroe believed for one minute that it had been Nick calling him. The voice had been wrong, but it had been someone begging him to help the Grimm. Someone who had apologized profusely, had told the blutbad that it had been a mistake, and then the connection had been lost. All Monroe had had was a text message with GPS coordinates and the stranger’s voice.

He had done his own stupid stunt by coming here, but now he knew why. 

Something… someone… had happened to their resident Grimm. 

Monroe sighed and looked for the first aid kit of Nick’s car, pulled out the emergency blanket and wrapped the unresponsive form in it. Then he took out his phone and dialed for help.

* * *

He had no idea how he had made it home. He had no recollection at all of getting up, walking to his car, driving, undressing, showering, getting dressed.

Right now Nick was clad in layers of thick clothes, still cold to the very bone. His back ached. His mind was a mess, confused and feverish still, holes the size of Oregon in his memories.  
He lay on a bed, on his side, freezing, his back throbbing, his head aching, and he really, really couldn’t warm up. Closing his eyes against the headache that crept up from the injured back and seemed to settle right behind his eyes, Nick tried to relax, tried to tell himself that he only needed rest and sleep.

It didn’t work.

He drifted, feeling cold, then feverish, then cold again. Feebly he clawed at the afghan he had buried under, but it wasn’t helping.

He wanted to know where he was, but he was failing. It was as if everything from just before now had been erased. Well, more like locked away. He knew it was there, but where?

There was a sound.

A door opening, then closing.

Nick’s concussed brain went alert, the Grimm side rising like a primal instinct that pushed through the pain to defend himself. His muscles tensed, despite the general weakness, and for a moment he was coiled and ready.

Steps came closer.

Nick’s eyes narrowed, his flushed face a mask of concentration.

There was a shape, a voice talking to him. Nick’s survival instinct screamed. Images of lizards and claws and darkness tumbled through his fractured mind, enhanced by the pain and the confusion, and he simply acted.

His fist connected with his attacker’s chin, snapping the head back. Nick fell off the bed. He stumbled away and nearly collapsed. He made it three steps when something caught him. 

His hand flew up, catching the attacker once more. The form moved away with a grunt, but not far enough. He fought the hands, striking out at whatever he could hit. 

His wrists were grabbed in a vice-like hold and his knees buckled as pain shot through it. A tiny part of him reminded him that he had clawed at, that his hand was hurt, but the much larger, primal part was screaming to get free. It overpowered any signs of pain and just fought.

Another hand tried to touch him and a voice was talking to him, insistently, trying to get him to understand. 

He didn’t. 

He didn’t care who it was. 

If he had known about the poisonous effect of the claws he might have stopped; but he didn’t. And maybe he wouldn’t have.

He had to survive.

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

His first reaction to the sight of his Grimm drenched, almost frozen, lips blue, and his back a mass of blood and torn clothes had been to hunt down whoever had done this. It was a split-second roar of emotions that had probably manifested in flash of golden eyes, judging by Monroe’s look.

Then he slammed all his control down on that notion and proceeded to handle the emergency with the calm, steady professionalism that was a trademark of Captain Sean Renard.

Only that he wasn’t here as the captain of his precinct. He was here as the mate of an injured, unconscious Grimm who was in a bad shape and needed medical attention. The fact that Monroe was there as well had him drawn between snarling at the other creature and accepting his help.

In the end Renard had to use every ounce of control to function normally, to not push Monroe away. Especially since the other man held Nick close to him, wrapped in two blankets, trying to get him warm in Nick’s SUV. The heater was blasting away, making the inside hot and uncomfortable, but it was what Nick needed.

Monroe’s expression had been one of calm competency, completely non-threatening, telling the creature in Renard that no one was taking his mate from him.

Getting the Grimm to the hospital hadn’t been an option. Too many questions. But there was always a contingency plan and there was always someone he could call. Being the Guardian of Portland meant a lot of connections and a lot of people who would discretely give him what he needed.

He had needed a doctor who knew about creature poison.

He had found her in Dr. Kati Carronn.

Dr. Carronn was a creature herself, an elegant, pale woman who happened to be a schwanensee. She had given Monroe and Renard one calculating look, especially Monroe, then had turned her concentration on her patient. She had worked quickly, silently, cleaning wounds and bandaging them, then telling Renard to keep Nick warm and give him the painkillers she would leave for him.

The three long slash marks across Nick’s back weren’t bad, but he had received a dose of poison from what she suspected was a waran, and the wounds on his hand were from the same wesen. It looked like whoever had pushed Nick into the water had also grabbed him and pulled him out again.

Carronn’s blue eyes were knowing when she looked at the regnant. She knew who she had treated, but there had been no hesitation, no judgment.

Inclining her head, the doctor had gathered her things, had left what Renard might need, and then she had been gone.

Monroe had been a silent watcher, his face reflecting his feelings. He was looking at his best friend with an almost helpless expression.

“You need anything?” he finally asked.

Renard shook his head. “Thank you,” he said silently.

“If you do… anything… anything at all… call.”

“I will.”

Monroe nodded, then headed for the door. He cast one last look at the Grimm, then at Renard, and finally left. The regnant knew he would be getting text messages in the next hours, asking how Nick was doing.

And he would answer every single one of them.

 

Renard had expected his Grimm to fall for the fever and poison, but he hadn’t expected him to wake in complete disorientation. He hadn’t expected Nick to fight him.

Then again, a Grimm was a predator, just like him, and he would have done the same.

So Sean Renard did the only thing he could: fight back.

Wild, gray eyes looked at him without seeing anything.

“Nick, it’s me!” he whispered harshly and was rewarded with a blow to the chest.

While it smarted, it hurt his partner more than him. Renard caught the other hand and twisted Nick around so he was resting with his back against the taller man’s chest. His arms were crossed in front of his own chest, immobilizing him somewhat.

Nick threw his head back and it crashed into Renard’s face. With hiss he tightened his hold and heard Nick groan in pain. It pained him just the same to inflict harm on the already abused hand, but he had to quiet him down.

“Nick, it’s me, Sean,” he murmured into his partner’s ear. “You are safe. Calm down. It’s okay. You are safe.” He repeated it over and over again.

Suddenly the body in his arms grew limp. The adrenalin that had sustained him deserted him without warning.

“Sean?” Nick whispered, sounding weak and broken.

Renard smiled and allowed himself to slide down the wall, cradling Nick in his hold. “Yes, it’s me. You’re safe.”

“Safe?”

“Yes.”

He held Nick tightly, feeling the lean body tremble uncontrollably. He rested his chin on the dark head and continued to softly reassure his partner that he was safe now, that everything was going to be okay.

Going by instinct he let his wings unfurl and wrapped them around Nick, a warm, living cocoon. There was a soft sigh and the last tension flowed out of the younger man.

“What are you doing here?” Nick whispered. His eyes were closed, he was a limp weight.

He smiled. “Getting beat up by my mate.”

A dry chuckle escaped him. Blurry eyes fell on his face. He knew he had a split lip from Nick’s blow. His Grimm could pack quite a punch even when weak and exhausted, but he was secure now.

“Thank you,” his partner breathed.

Renard protectively curled the wings closer, feeling the tremors increase. After some time, Nick quieted down, his ragged breathing still a bit uneven. They simply sat together for a while.

“How did I get home?” Nick murmured, surprising Renard who had thought him to be asleep.

The regnant shifted his wings a little while still keeping it a warm cocoon.

“I received a call from Monroe. He got a message from someone who used your phone. Monroe found you in your car, unconscious, and kept you warm. He called me.”

“I’m not in a hospital.”

“No.” Renard caressed his mate.

“You got connections,” Nick remarked with a sleepy tone to his voice.

He smiled. “Yes.” And that was all he would say to that. “Monroe will probably chew your ear off because you didn’t call him for this one before it got out of hand.”

Nick twisted his head a little to look into the golden-rimmed green eyes of his partner. “It’s not his job.”

“He’s your friend. He said he chose this voluntarily. Saying no is an option and he would tell you if he didn’t think himself capable of helping, and of taking care of himself.”

“I endangered him in the past. I don’t want him to die because of me.”

Renard leaned down, burying his face briefly in the unruly, dark hair. “And I don’t want you to die because you refused to accept help from friends. Nick. You’re not alone.”

He tightened his wings again and Nick reached out to run a caress over the warm, leathery appendages. Renard shivered a little at the intimate caress along one bony finger.

Nick wrapped an arm around his partner’s middle, resting his head back against the broad chest. He was tired and worn.

Renard’s fingers played through the longish strands of dark hair.

“Okay,” the Grimm finally said.

The regnant smiled a little. “Still cold?” Renard queried.

“Freezing,” his mate confessed.

Falling into a lake did that to a human body.

“Y’re warm,” Nick mumbled, sighing contentedly.

Renard chuckled, still carding his fingers through Nick’s hair. Having Nick plastered against him wasn’t bad at all. It actually calmed his more primal nature in the face of the creature that had attacked and harmed him.

“How about a bed?”

“Sounds wonderful.”

But he didn’t move. Just the thought had Nick exhausted.

“Want me to carry you?”

The teasing had Nick groan in protest. “I’m not the girl!” But he was still hanging on to Renard, face mashed into the shirt.

Renard leaned down and placed a kiss on the tousled head. “Never said that. Think you can coordinate enough to get back into the bedroom?”

Nick mumbled something unintelligible, but he made an effort and together with Renard’s help he managed to stand. Strong fingers buried in his multiple layers of clothes, half dragging, half supporting him as they walked the short distance. The regnant was careful not to come in contact with the bandage-covered injuries, something that had him angry at the creature because it had hurt Nick, and angry at himself that he couldn’t protect him.

Nick gave him a half-lidded look in the elevator. “Stop it.”

“Hm?”

“Beating yourself up over this.”

“I’m not!”

“Right.” He yawned. “You are.”

Renard kept him from sliding down the wall, chuckling. “I better get you to bed, Grimm. You’re dead on your feet.”

“You fall into a lake and freeze, then we talk.” Nick winced when his back made too much contact with the wall.

“Not high on my list.”

“Knowing you, you wouldn’t even feel it,” Nick muttered.

He chuckled. “Probably.”

Renard managed to get the other man onto the bed and under the covers. Nick was already more or less asleep.

“You got work?” Nick slurred.

“I can stay here.”

“Watch me sleep?”

“There’s worse.”

“Not goin’ ‘nywhere.”

Renard smiled and leaned down, kissing the dry lips. “No, you’re not. And neither am I.”

It got him a mumble, then Nick was dead to the world.

Renard stayed. There was nothing more important than his mate right now.

*

Monroe called an hour into his silent vigil at Nick’s bedside. Renard had settled next to the deeply asleep Grimm, a book he had meant to read on his lap, and a bottle of water close by. Nick hadn’t really moved in that hour, but still he had managed to inch as close to the regnant as possible, and Renard found one hand straying to caress the soft hair involuntarily.

The screen of his cell lit up, all sounds off, and he grabbed the device, smiling slightly as he read the text.

‘He’s fine,’ he sent back. ‘Asleep.’

Monroe sounded relieved even though it was only a text reply and the regnant smiled more. Acceptance of Monroe as Nick’s best friend and reluctant mentor, as well as his sidekick on various cases, had come easily. He had known about the blutbad right from the start and while he had watched the developing friendship with eagle eyes, there had never been any concerns on his side as to Monroe’s loyalties. He knew he could really rely on the other man to protect Nick – if Nick let him.

Not like this time.

Renard had already stretched out his considerable feelers to find the one who had done this. The hexenbiester were hunting them down. Adalind had updated him several times, giving him a good idea just what had happened and why, and while his human side understood the necessity to protect family, the primal side wanted blood.

 

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

It had taken the better half of the summer for Mireille Luce Renard to convince her younger brother to grant her a visitation right for Portland. Not that she couldn’t have come by otherwise. It was simply polite to introduce oneself to the Guardian of a city when entering the protectorate, and after the Maurice Incident – yes, capital letters – she had been extra careful. Her brother had been extremely volatile concerning anyone else of his family coming into his protectorate, especially since he had found a Grimm mate and the relationship was still rather fledgling at best. 

Mireille had understood. She had been patient, too. She knew how important the partner of a regnant was to the wesen in question, how territorial her kind was on the best of days – she was no exception – and Maurice had made matters worse with his behavior. 

They had exchanged mails. They had talked twice in person – and her brother had been a prime example of cool aloofness and perfect control. She had even called Nick Burkhardt a few more times, liking her brother’s chosen mate more and more each time. That he was a Grimm made him all the more interesting and she had wanted to meet him in person.

Nick was special. She had heard in Sean’s voice and read it between the lines. The subtle threats what would happen should she harm him had been just another helpful hint.

But Mireille had no idea what had happened in the past days.

It was simply her bad luck that Sean had neglected to call her to call off the planned dinner.

So two days after Christmas, Mireille Luce Renard left her hotel and took a cab to the address of her brother, the Protector fo Portland.

*

Nick had been more or less awake when Renard had left the apartment to ‘handle some matters’. Nick had nodded fuzzily, curled up on the couch and still freezing. Sean had touched him gently, he had felt the bond hum gently, and it had been reassuring. Still his arm hurt and he was trying to chase the cobwebs out of his head. He had little luck with that and had simply dropped off to sleep once more.

 

The door bell roused him and Nick groaned softly as he got up, following the bell automatically.

As he looked at the screen that showed him the security camera’s image, the fuzziness lifted a little. 

He had seen the woman before.

On a picture.

An old one.

Tall, dark-haired, the same features as her brother, dressed impeccably in dark pants, a white blouse, matching dark jacket and stylish shoes that had probably cost more than Nick made in three months.

Mireille?

 _Oh shit!_ shot through him. _The dinner date!_

Tonight! They had planned a private dinner at the condo with Renard’s sister, the Guardian of London. A place where Sean would feel secure enough as another regnant was getting to know his bonded. Nick would have chosen a restaurant himself, but he had come to understand that despite being such a cool and composed ruler and captain, Sean Renard fell back on very primal urges and instincts when it came to Nick. And nothing the Grimm said or did had helped ease his mind.

But he had forgotten about Mireille. Nick had forgotten, too, though he had the excuse of feeling more like a popsicle than a human being. His mind was an ice cube.

He opened the door, about to say something, when Mireille got there before him.

“Dear lord, Nick, what happened to you?”

Green eyes not unlike Sean’s looked him up and down. 

“Uhm, a nilwaran?” he answered, feeling slightly dizzy.

Features shifted briefly and Nick saw the wesen behind the human façade, as beautiful as her brother was, with lighter colors but the same sharp eyes. Those eyes were running up and down his body. Nick knew what he looked like: pale and bruised and battered, one hand wrapped in bandages, wearing sweat pants and a thick hoodie against the cold he still felt. 

She sighed and shook her head, all composed and human again. “Grimm business.”

It wasn’t even a question.

Nick just about aborted the shrug, thinking of his injuries, and let her in. “Kinda.”

“Where’s Sean?”

“Uh… I’m not really sure. I think he mentioned business and…” Nick trailed off, frowning a little. “He had some things to take care of.”

“I bet he did.”

Nick blinked, feeling exhausted and still very foggy. He stepped aside, remembering his manners.

“I’m sorry, Mireille. Come in, please.”

Mireille hesitated a brief second, as if she pondered the idea of entering her brother’s territory without him being present. 

“I think it’s okay if the bonded mate invistes you, right?” the Grimm asked quietly.

“It certainly is. But the mate in question is seriously impaired through his injuries. My brother might not like another regnant’s presence right now.”

“Miri, please. You are family.”

She smiled, a warm expression in her eyes. “I know that you know about the non-existent family bonds and values, Nick. My genetic relationship with Sean holds no meaning. I’m a danger to you.”

Nick met her eyes with a firm expression, fighting back the headache and the general soreness a little longer.”You’re not a danger to me, Mireille.”

Again her features shifted and Nick smiled at her. She was only the second regnant he had ever seen aside from Sean and he liked her a lot better than Maurice, which wasn’t such a great feat.

“Please come in.”

The human façade was back and she tilted he head, eyes piercing into his. “You are a very special person, Nick Burkhardt. I’ve met Grimms before. It wasn’t a pleasant encounter. The last one was a bloody menace. You are very pleasantly different.”

Then she walked gracefully inside. 

“Look, sorry about the date… if he didn’t call you… he didn’t, right?” Nick asked, closing the door.

“No, he neglected to do so. But now I see why. An injured mate takes priority.” There was slight criticism in her British accented voice that he wasn’t here. “Don’t worry, Nick. Now, sit down before you fall over. You look a tad pale.”

Nick gladly did so and watched the woman who was his mate’s older sister walk into the kitchen as if she owned it. 

“Uh, Mireille?”

“Would you like some tea?” she called.

“Okay…” 

Smiling calmly, holding a packet of cookies, she ushered him onto the couch while the water was heating. 

“I’m famished. I thought I was getting a dinner treat.” She winked as she opened the packet. “So, tell me what happened.”

Nick did.

Tea was ready ten minutes later and Mireille told him firmly to stay on the couch. She served it in large mugs and ate another cookie.

When Renard didn’t show within thirty minutes of Mireille’s arrival, Nick called for take-out, which had his kinda-sister-in-law smile even more. He didn’t call Sean because he knew whatever had dragged the other man away from his vigil over Nick had been important, and Mireille wasn’t a danger to him. She was actually a delight.

He liked her, had liked her after their first few phone calls, and he had grown into that relationship with his mate’s sister quite quickly.

 

So when Sean Renard walked in the door he found his chosen mate and his older sister sitting on the couch, amiably eating Thai take-out, looking relaxed and completely at ease. 

He wasn’t.

Not at all.

Eyes flared golden and his features shifted as his control was out the window.

Nick straightened abruptly, the sound alerting him to the regnant’s emotional state. Pain flared in various body parts, but he ignored it. The bond was suddenly a sharp blade trying to cut loose from him. He grabbed it automatically, pulling hard and abruptly.

“Sean,” Mireille said, rising gracefully, eyebrows lifting slightly.

She kept her human looks, her posture non-threatening and calm.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

Nick tugged again, now grabbing the bond like a leash and refusing to let go. Gray eyes flared and met the golden ones that challenged him.

“In case you forgot,” the Grimm said, voice level and firm, “we had a dinner date with your sister.”

Renard blinked and shifted back.

Mireille smiled cheerfully,

Nick glared at the taller regnant, refusing to give in and let go of the bond, as much as it exhausted him to hold it like that.

“Dinner?”

“You had sharper days, little brother,” Miri sighed, shaking her head. “But I can see why you are so dense right now. An injured mate can do that to you.”

Renard moved closer to the mate in question and Nick gave him a narrow-eyed look, daring him. The emotions were quieting down, but the regnant felt a lot more volatile to him than he should have any right to be right now. The golden hue still permeating the green eyes was tell-tale.

“Relax,” Nick murmured.

It got him a hint of fangs and a rumble.

Mireille smiled. “It’s okay, Nick. I understand his reaction, which is instinctual. I believe it’s only because of you and your presence that Sean hasn’t attacked me.”

“You are our guest!” Nick insisted, daring Renard to say anything else. 

“Right now I’m a potential danger to a regnant’s mate.” She inclined her head to the Grimm. “Thank you for dinner, Nick.”

“You’re not leaving!” he protested.

“I am. It would serve no one to aggravate instinctual, territorial behavior like that any more.” Mireille looked at her brother with something akin to pride. “Take care of him. He is a sweet guy.”

Nick felt a blush creep up his neck.

“I’m staying at the Vintage Plaza. Call.”

Renard simply nodded, apparently not trusting his voice, and Mireille smiled again. She gave   
Nick a little wink, then calmly left the apartment.

The moment the door closed after her, Renard rounded on Nick, the features still too sharp to be human, the eyes tell-tale golden, and before the Grimm could say something, the regnant was suddenly close.

Very close.

Barely touching him because of his injuries, Sean’s arms lay lightly around him and his face was buried in the dark hair. Nick felt the bond relax, going limp, and then there was a soft whisper of a sigh.

“You know you just about attacked your sister, who you allowed into your protectorate, who we had a dinner date with?”

Renard’s eyes were closed, his body still too tense for Nick’s liking.

“Sean?”

“Sorry,” the taller man whispered.

“Call her?”

It got him a nod.

Nick ran his hands over the broad back, feeling the tension drain now, too.

“She’s your sister,” he murmured. “She’s not the enemy.”

“You’re injured.”

“I’m a detective, captain,” he said sharply. “An officer of the law. I can defend myself. And I’m a Grimm. I knew who she was. I’m not weak prey.”

Another sigh.

Renard finally stepped back, face a mirror of his emotional state. Nick watched him closely, noting how badly this had hit his mate. Long fingers touched Nick’s pale face, then ran down one arm to the injured hand. Nick caught the fingers with his good hand.

“I’m fine, Sean. Mireille is not your enemy. Call her. Make a new date.”

“I will.”

Nick ignored the twinges and dull aches, leaning in to kiss the regnant’s lips. Renard replied gently, then drew back. 

“You’re tired.”

“And you’re a mother-hen.” Nick smiled a little more. “Hungry?”

Renard blinked, surprised by the change of topic. 

“Got some left-overs.”

He smiled at that and followed Nick to the kitchen, where he stopped his Grimm from heating up the food. He did it himself and settled on the couch, Nick stretched out next to him, feet up. He felt tired, pleasantly full, and the bond had by now become the usual background hum.

He fell asleep not much later.

 

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

Renard watched his sleeping partner, took in the smooth features, still marked by the pain and the cold he had suffered, running sharp eyes over the bruised body, and finally the last knots inside him unraveled. He let his head sink back against the couch and sighed.

He had nearly blown in.

He. A seasoned regnant. One who had expected the visit of his older sister, Guardian of London. An official appointment, planned way in advance, organized and structured to the last minute.

Damn!

This had never happened before! At least not before Nick.

His eyes were on his mate again and he smiled, soft and warm and loving. Renard knew that he wouldn’t change a thing even if he had the chance. He would have to smooth things over with his sister.

 

He did find the lizard creature within forty-eight hours of Nick waking up and panicking. Renard didn’t really have to guess what he was facing, he knew the other was a nilwaran. Dangerous, very rare, and shy. Unless threatened, the few that were known in the creature world hid themselves, mostly in tropic regions. For him to come to Portland, far from being a tropic area, it had to have been important.

Enter: the kidnapped boys.

Renard couldn’t fault him for chasing the kidnappers and taking his kin back, especially since it had been the boys of his cousin, but he couldn’t forgive the attack on his Grimm and the fact that neither he nor his kin-brother had come to the Guardian of this territory. Him.

He towered over the two men, both pale and shaking with terror. Their human facades had shattered when Renard had slammed the first into the wall and had, without even looking, drawn his gun and pointed it at the second waran. 

Glacially cold eyes regarded the creature at his feet, feeling no mercy.

“We didn’t think,” Benjamin, the one Nick had chased and the one who had killed the two kidnappers of the boys, said, voice reflecting his terror.

He should be terrified. He should be making a deal with his maker. While Renard hadn’t dropped his façade, there were enough signs for even the thickest of wesen to realize that they were in the presence of a Guardian.

“Please… your highness…” He whimpered when Renard rumbled softly. “I knew he was a Grimm, and the tales about them were gruesome… and I wanted my cousin’s children to be free…”

“Did he or did he not identify himself as a member of the Portland police force?”

The second nilwaran cringed. He had been the one to tear into Nick’s back. He was Benjamin’s brother.

“He did,” Benjamin answered.

“Still you chose to attack.”

“He’s a Grimm!”

Renard’s eyes changed, golden and still cold, his whole demeanor became lethal. “He is mine.”

The two men shrank back, exchanging panicky looks. “We didn’t know…”

“You knew Portland was protected territory when you came here. You knew it was mine to rule over, that I am its Guardian. Do you think I would let a Grimm live and hunt unless I knew of his loyalty?”

They shook their heads, by now reeking of fear for their lives.

It would be so easy. End it here and now. The children didn’t even come into his thinking. He would find a home for them, but these two adults had dared to attack Nick! Fangs threatened to grow and he wanted to so badly give in. Never before had Renard felt this anger. Not with Leo Taymor. Nor with Marie Kessler. Not with anyone at all. 

This was as personal as it could get for him and any other time he would not think twice. No one could blame him for killing the two men; no one could judge him. 

“I’ll let you live because you helped him. I’ll let you go because your kin have suffered enough. But I warn you to ever come back without my approval, though.”

They swallowed.

“Take your children and leave Portland.”

Benjamin nodded frantically. “We will, sir. We will. I… I apologize. For all of us. We never meant for this to happen. Please… please tell the Grimm… we never wanted to hurt him.”

“But you did,” Renard said coldly, wanting so much to tear into them, show them the error of their ways. “I should kill you for what you did! Leave!”

And they did. Ran, actually. 

The regnant snarled softly to himself, then turned on his heels and walked away. Renard had this insistent urge to creature out, to follow them like the an avenging angel to spread their remains in the winds. He wanted to hear them scream in pain as they learned not to hurt the mate of the one in charge of this territory. 

But he didn’t.

Nick would find out eventually and he didn’t condone senseless killing. His little Grimm… tamer of a regnant.

Renard smiled darkly.

Yes, he wouldn’t follow his instinct, hard as it was, because he loved his mate and Nick wouldn’t be able to live with this. 

Adalind would make sure that the two men and the children would leave safely. After passing his territory’s borders, Renard didn’t care any longer.

He had a mate to take care of.

* * *

Nick didn’t really have to ask what Renard had been up to. When he had come home the waves of anger had still radiated off him. Home was Renard’s expensive condo that overlooked Portland and had probably cost more than Nick would ever make in his life-time. It was a clean-cut, sleek but still warmly decorated place that had become the Grimm’s second home within the last year. 

Because Renard had been hovering and had been so completely on the edge, Nick had almost voluntarily agreed to move in for the time being. If the regnant thought he needed his mate in his home, so be it. Nick was nothing if not sensitive to the other man’s moods and right now the baser nature was very close to the surface. Renard would rip the head off whoever would come in unannounced or so much as looked at Nick wrong.

At least Monroe had told him so when they had talked over the phone. The blutbad had summed up what had happened, after profusely apologizing for not being there. Nick had told him it was okay, that it hadn’t been Monroe’s fault, but his friend was still chewing on what had nearly happened.

Nick, still clad in very warm clothes and looking like he was off to lead a North Pole expedition, just raised his brows as the regnant stalked in.

Renard growled. He actually growled. His features didn’t shift, his eyes were still human and very green, but he was very close to losing control. 

“Are you finished?” Nick asked calmly.

Hands clenched into fists, then uncurled as he forced himself to relax. 

 

His mate was safe.

Still hurt, but safe.

He was at his own apartment, in Renard’s very own private territory. He belonged here. His scent was everywhere. 

Against the backdrop of the city’s lit-up buildings, the night silent and undisturbed in their little sanctuary, Nick looked pale and still in pain from the deep wounds on his back. And cold.

Renard approached, steps measured, taking in the smaller form, the anger draining to be replaced by softer emotions; warmer emotions. He carded his fingers through the longish strands and Nick leaned into the touch, a knowing smile reflecting in his eyes.

The regnant leaned down, brushing their lips together, nipping at the slightly chapped lips. Nick grabbed a handful of shirt and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss and delivering a quick bite to his lower lip when he drew back. Renard felt a sliver of arousal race through him. 

This wasn’t the time, though. Nick wasn’t strong enough. And his back was a mess.

He ran a feather-light caress over the slender back in question.

“I’m finished,” he murmured, nuzzling the Grimm’s temple.

“Good. Did you leave them alive? In one piece?”

Renard chuckled, looking into the gray eyes that held an edge of Grimm. “Yes.” And damn, the man was attractive when he was letting the inner predator out. That aura of danger… it was like a magnet for the regnant. “Yes, they are alive and well, with all their limbs. They have by now left my territory.”

“This will be an unsolved murder case then.”

“It has to be. Unless you decide to follow them, bring them in.”

Nick was silent, then shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “Even if every cop instinct screams not to do it. This time I can’t be a cop, though. I have to be a Grimm.” He looked at Renard, features set. “Your Grimm, an arbitrator of the law of this territory. I made my decision.”

Renard blinked, caught off guard by the statement. His Grimm. He was the Guardian, the Grimm was his right hand. He felt a smirk on his lips, growing wider. Not that Nick would ever follow orders outside the captain-detective command structure. He was his own person and the regnant had no power over him.

“My Grimm,” he simply repeated, his possessive streak rising.

He kissed Nick again, fighting back the instinct to drop his shields, to take what was offered. 

But his mate was injured.

He wasn’t a sadistic bastard and he didn’t take pleasure from pain. 

Carefully he wrapped an arm around the other man’s waist and held him, his wings itching to curl around him. He stopped himself from giving in to this need and simply sank everything he felt into the kiss they traded.

When they finally separated, Renard gazed at the handsome man in his arms, wondering how he had managed to bond the Grimm to him, the most perfect mate anyone could have. 

The cursed Coins of Zakynthos had brought them together, but everything after that had been their own making.

The Grimm had voluntarily bowed to him, but never surrendered. He wasn’t a subject, he wasn’t an inferior creature. He was perfect and beautiful and a regnant’s mate. His other half. Never to be owned. 

Sean Renard had his loyalty. A Grimm’s loyalty.

It was a life debt, an honor, a rarity that could never be bought.

The reverence he felt when he thought about what this man meant, what Nick had done for him, to him, was incredible. It was breathtaking. It was all-encompassing.

“I need you,” Renard said softly, so completely a loss for words to express everything he felt. 

Nick smiled. “I need you,” he echoed the sentiment.

And because of his emotions, because of what he felt for this man, he had let the two nilwarane go. The next wesen might not be so lucky.

 

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

He had healed rather quickly, much to his own surprise. Nick had felt Renard’s gaze on him several times in the last days, but there was no arguing about it. There were no traces of his injuries and his cover story had been a bad bout of flu. Hank and Wu and the others had believed him, remarking that he still looked a bit pale, but the broken skin had mended.

Arranging another dinner with Mireille hadn’t been difficult. She had been talking to Nick by phone or sending him mails or texts every day, inquiring into his health, how her brother was treating him if she could help him in any way. 

This time it went smoothly.

Very smoothly.

She left them with a meaningful look at Nick, and a not-so hidden wink, around midnight. 

“Lunch tomorrow?” she asked. “My treat.”

“We’d love to,” Nick replied before his mate could say anything.

Renard raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t object. Mireille smiled more.

“I can see why he is your mate, Sean.” 

And then she was off.

Renard’s expression darkened a second, then he turned to his mate.

Nick gave him a flirtatious look. “She can see it.”

“Of course she can,” the regnant rumbled.

“And it’s a bad thing?”

It got him a huff. “No.”

“Then relax. She’s gone, I’m fine, you still have me.”

And it made Sean sound like he was some kind of instinctual creature without a mind of his own, without restraint or control. When it came to Nick it was most likely the truth. The man had managed to get to him in so many ways, even before they had become an item.

 

Renard’s eyes were drawn to his lover, who was looking at him with an almost feral expression of hunger. It made him shiver. Those gray eyes were lit up with an intense fire.

The next thing he knew, Nick had pushed him against the wall and his mouth was thoroughly ravaged by the angel. Renard curled his fingers into the waistband of his lover's pants, drawing him closer, his tongue battling against Nick's for dominance while in the same breath submitting to the man's need. He loved it when the younger man let the Grimm play. It was a powerful surge, something from deep inside Nick, that targeted Renard as its victim, its prey, while also recognizing it as a fellow hunter. The regnant reacted to that surge, his own powers rising, meeting the Grimm, challenging him, wanting more and wanting it all.

They separated, breathing hard, eyes wild and dilated. Renard's glowed golden and he rumbled softly. A flush covered Nick's fair skin and his hair looked unruly. He had never looked more desirable and a longing rose inside the regnant, a longing so primal it shut out everything else. Something seemed to fizz through him, sizzle along his nerves, settling way down south. 

Renard drew his mate into another kiss that grew more demanding with every second. He was acutely aware of Nick's body against his, so perfect, so familiar, but still very new and exciting. His desire rose several notches, thoughts colliding with each other, tumbling around in his head. 

He had no idea how they made it to the bedroom. He only knew they were suddenly there, in the stylish private rooms of his condo. The bed was just behind him.

Nick was on him then, tugging at his shirt, trying to get to the skin underneath. It was an almost frantic gesture and Renard caught the hands. He kissed the insides of the wrists, nibbling at the sensitive spots, making the Grimm moan, knees buckling slightly.

"Sean..." he whispered hoarsely.

"Slow," Renard murmured. "Don't want to rush it."

Yes, he wanted it all right now, but he also knew that Nick was still feeling the bruises and other assorted injuries. While the Grimm healed faster than he had expected, he wasn’t completely back to one hundred percent just yet.

He pushed the hands down and let his eyes rake over his mate, then reached out and trailed a finger down the shirt-clad chest. Nick closed his eyes as the wandering finger scraped over a nipple. The shirt was divested off and Renard spread his hands over the chest revealed to him. He massaged the soft skin, kissing a spot here or there. Nick reacted beautifully to each stimulation and by the time Renard made his way to the strong back, he was breathing hard.

The regnant let his hands slide down the stomach to the waistband, and made quick work of the zipper, all the time kissing and nipping at the shoulders and shoulder blades. 

Nick groaned as his arousal was freed and he stepped out of his pants.

Renard smiled and walked around to the front again, then continued the exploration of his lover. Nick’s fingers wove into his hair as he sank lower and finally arrived where Nick wanted him the most. He gasped loudly as warm lips and a moist mouth took him in. Renard paid very keen attention to each sound Nick made and the regnant’s fingers dug into the firm buttocks and hips, holding him in place whenever he twitched.

"Sean..." Nick whispered, touching his head, raking his fingers through the short hair. "So good..."

His hips moved again and Renard steadied him. He repeated his ministrations, sometimes adding a new little twist, until Nick whimpered with the desire of release, which he wasn't given. One finger sought that special spot and when he finally touched it, 

Nick gave an inarticulate scream.

Sean caught his lover as Nick's knees buckled, and for a while, both men just lay together. The only sound was harsh breathing.

"That was amazing," the Grimm murmured.

Renard smiled maliciously. "Isn't over yet, Nick."

The gray eyes shone with passion, love and desire, the heat in their depth making Renard shiver. 

"I certainly hope not." 

He cupped Renard's cheek with one hand and leaned forward to kiss him gently. It turned from gentle and soft into hard and demanding.

Part of Renard amazed at the incredible power behind each touch, the flaming desire that was burning across his very soul. Another part just wanted to throw his Grimm across the bed and get on with it. That part won.

*

Renard leaned over Nick and gave the soft lips a gentle kiss. His hands strayed over the sweaty body and a faint tremor answered the touch. A moan escaped the other man and Renard cupped the sensitive groin, squeezing gently. Hazy gray eyes sought Renard's. They were glowing a bright golden now. The regnant's gaze was drawn to the bite on Nick's shoulder and he licked over it, smiling possessively.

The last hours had passed in a whirl of heated pleasure and incredible satisfaction. All of him was still highly sensitive, just like Nick. His mate looked as exhausted as Renard felt. 

* * *

“Have you told him?”

It was a simple question, but there was no simple answer. Renard stalled, looking at the woman sitting amiably across from him, long legs crossed, holding a glass cup filled with tea.

The room was bathed in soft light, the sounds muted, the décor expensive and tasteful. It was a private suite in a very upper class hotel. The suite consisted of more rooms than a standard house and most of the floor belonged to the one guest paying the exorbitant rent per night. Right now it was being paid by a wealthy British woman by the name of Mireille Luce Renard.

“Told who what?” Sean asked and sipped at his own tea.

It was delicious.

A dark eyebrow rose, the eyes holding a scolding expression. “Please don’t play dumb, Sean.”

“There is a lot to tell.”

“Like that you had his aunt murdered?”

His face remained neutral, but there was a slight twitch around the eyes.

Mireille nodded as if that was her answer. “I see. You are playing a dangerous game, Sean. The bond will grow and you won’t be able to keep all your secrets from him. You already trusted him with who and what you are, revealing more than I thought you able to. He will get behind the truth.”

“Maybe.”

“Definitely. And by hiding you will only make it harder.”

“Knowing the truth would destroy the bond,” Renard said neutrally. “I won’t risk it.”

“It will kill you… he will kill you… if you push everything away from you. Sean, he’s your mate!”

“I killed his aunt!”

“Why?”

He blinked, green eyes slightly baffled. Mireille leaned forward, her similar eyes intent.

“Why did you kill Marie Kessler when her health problems would have taken care of that? Do you really think her last months would have been able to turn Nick into a monster? I’ve talked to him a few times, we met, we talked more, and you can’t warp someone so badly within such a short time. I also know that Marie wasn’t like she behaved in her final days until her sister and brother-in-law were killed. Things like that change people. A thing like that could make Nick into what we all fear in a Grimm.”

Renard was silent, staring at his tea.

“Betraying what he feels will turn him, Sean.”

“Telling him what I did will, too.”

“Why did you kill her?” Mireille repeated her earlier question.

“I didn’t send the reapers after her,” he finally answered. “They are a thorn in my side already.”

“You sent a hexenbiest instead.”

“For different reasons.”

“I’m listening.”

Renard sighed. “When she came back to Portland, she announced her presence to me. She knew who I was, she knew I was Nick’s boss at work. We had a brief… talk… before she went to see her nephew to tell him that she had little time left.”

Mireille’s eyes widened a little.

“She told me that she had gone a darker path because of her own pain and loss. She gave up everything to care for the child of her sister after their murder. And she was still a Grimm.”

“She didn’t inherit her sisters powers?”

“No, they were both Grimms.”

“And Nick’s father?”

Renard was silent for a moment. “Not a Grimm,” he then said.

“But?”

“I don’t know.”

Mireille leaned back, thoughtful. “Go on? She came to you and…?”

“And we talked. About Nick, about how she never told him, how she had hoped that she would have her own offspring one day. That the Grimm wouldn’t come out. But it all went differently and in the end he inherited something he had never been trained for. She asked me to protect him.”

“Marie did?”

“In her own may.” Renard let his eyes roam around the room, dredging up memories he hadn’t pondered in a while. “She knew the reapers were after her. She knew they would be after Nick as well. She also knew that she had little time left.”

“So you what? Helped it all along without being too obvious about it?”

“In a way. The transfer of power had to be made quickly for Nick to survive, to be able to use what he already had and what would be given to him. Marie knew that her slow death would be his death as well. He would be stuck between Grimm and not-yet-Grimm. The reaper got to her, but he didn’t kill her because Nick shot him. Adalind was supposed to end her life quickly, covering my involvement in this. She failed.”

Renard’s lips were thin lines of misgiving. He had sent the hexenbiest because she was capable and trained. It had to be a clean, painless kill. He had orchestrated it all, played his part of cold and ruthless ruler perfectly. He had said all the right words, had shown all the right emotions, and none would be the wiser. 

“So then what?”

“I upheld the façade. I continued the play. No one was supposed to know that it was a mercy killing on her request to assign Nick as the next Grimm. It had to look good for the reapers. Adalind chose humans, but Nick had already appointed a bodyguard. A blutbad. He had somehow managed to get the loyalty of a blutbad despite what he… they… were.” He smiled, feeling proud in a way.

Mireille chuckled. “Nick mentioned him. Monroe, right?”

Renard nodded. “I staged a final act and I’m not proud of what I did. She was his only family and Nick values family because of his past.”

“That he does. It’s a new concept for our kind, isn’t it?” his sister teased.

He grimaced. “He wouldn’t understand, Miri. Never. I took his aunt from him in a violent way. I never wanted it that way. All best-laid plans went out the window. I pushed him into this world and hid who I am. Politics of the wesen world elude him and he can’t understand or know half of what I do. Who I am with him is not the man I am when it comes to everyone else. Knowing some of my decisions would endanger him, harm him, hurt him…”

“He will know one day. This thing between you is growing. He already has access to you through the bond. He keeps you balanced and mostly cool-headed. This might not come out in the next months or even the next year, but it will leak. Sooner or later. And if you open this old wound, it will bleed, Sean. A lot. Tell him while you can still keep things level.”

Renard closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. “I can’t, Miri. It will kill us. Me. If Nick severs the bond…”

“He wouldn’t. He will hurt, but time will also heal that hurt,” she stated. “Andrew… didn’t know who I was either.”

Andrew being her mate, her husband. He wasn’t a regnant, which wasn’t really exceptional since regnant genes were dominant and all offspring would always be regnants.

“He thought I was a wealthy heiress, dabbling in politics. He didn’t know what I was, or how many had fallen for me.”

Renard knew what that remark meant. People had died for Mireille and because of her. She was just as territorial and hard and downright nasty when it came to her protectorate and her people as he could be.

“No, I never killed any of his family members, but I took care of matters my own way. He didn’t take kindly to some of my actions.” Her face was cool, composed, but the ring of gold around her iris was tell-tale of her emotional state.

Renard knew how much his sister loved Andrew Luce M.D., how hard she had fought for him to understand that there was more to her than what was known about regnants. Andrew wasn’t a maushertz, but schwanensee, even males, weren’t predators either. They were mostly found in caring professions, some even as teachers, but mostly medical care and everything associated with it. It had come as a shock for him to see her true nature when she had dropped her shields.

“But you never killed,” Sean now said.

“No. And when you tell him that his own aunt wanted it this way, it sheds a whole different light.”

Renard didn’t look at her, his eyes faraway and closed off. He knew things wouldn’t smooth over that easily. The lies surrounding him were a dense net and Nick knew just a little of everything. Politics were Renard’s main excuse to disappear and not inform his Grimm, despite the fact that to rule and to protect and to handle matters the regnant had to be truthful to his arbitrator. Nick would one day run into something that would unravel he net and until then, Sean Renard planned to lie.

He would deal with the pain later.

And it would be agony.

Mireille seemed to see the truth, his very thoughts, and her frown told him what she thought about it. But her mate wasn’t a Grimm. Her mate wasn’t Nick Burkhardt. And she had never manipulated everyone around her mate like Sean had done. 

“He’s stronger than you think he is,” Mireille broke the silence.

“I know how strong he is.”

“Do you? Our partners have to be powerful. We would never accept a weak beta mate. But a Grimm is more than that. He is independent and hard-headed and powerful and has abilities yet untapped. He isn’t anything like the other humans you surround yourself with. He’s more than them and different from us. His aunt died a long time ago. He has dealt with that. He has accepted a male partner. He has accepted you. He has his place in your protectorate and the wesen here respect him. He even has the loyalty of some very dangerous predators.” Mireille studied him through neutral eyes. “But you see him as a fledgling to be protected. You won’t see him as the more powerful of the two of you.”

Sean’s head snapped up and his eyes flared with a rim of gold.

“He is, Sean,” she said levelly. “He is the one to rein you in, to balance you. He isn’t weak at all. He has you to deal with. Think about it. And,” she added slyly, “you would never have chosen a weak mate. Even if you had been thinking with your dick instead of your brain.”

Renard growled softly. He knew Nick was strong. He knew the younger man wasn’t to be trifled with. The past months had shown him just how much Nick had grown into his role, how quickly he had embraced his heritage. He was learning about the wesen world and about the different creatures in it. He had made allies and friends. 

He was Renard’s equal, just like it should be in this kind of relationship. 

Still…

“And he knows you’re a manipulative bastard,” Mireille added with a smile. “No more and no less than any of our kind.”

He gave her a dark look.

She rose gracefully and he followed her example.

“Talk to him, Sean. I mean it. Face the pain now instead of later.”

Renard didn’t answer and she shook her head with a sigh.

“I’ll be on my way home tomorrow,” Mireille told him. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“My pleasure.”

It got him a knowing smile. Having another of his kind in his territory had been grating on Renard’s nerves and both knew it.

He left the hotel not much later, deep in thought, wondering what would be the lesser evil right now: tell Nick and have it over with, or wait and see if time might lessen the impact.

He had no answer to it, only the fear of what would happen.

 

tbc...


	6. Chapter 6

Nick had come out to the trailer to get in a few hours reading, as well as writing his own additions and chapters. He did that semi-regularly, fitting in an hour here or there, maybe even a whole day. He knew it was crucial to teach himself as much as he could and to pin down his experiences and thoughts for whoever would inherit it. He had learned a lot already, but things still kept surprising him.

Sorting some of the smaller books he tried to understand Marie’s system, if she ever had one in this place. Books were in every corner, on every shelf, in drawers and cupboards, or even on the floor. The many drawers of one cupboard were filled with things that were weird and sometimes downright nasty. He knew he would have to drag Monroe along and ask him about what this was and where to use it. If there was any use for it at all. Then again, his aunt wouldn’t have kept it if it didn’t help her in some way one day.

It was weeks after Mireille had left, hugging him tightly and telling the amused Grimm to call or mail, that Nick stumbled over an envelope wedged between two drawers. There was no address on it, no stamp, just a name.

His name.

Nick took it and sat down on the only chair in the trailer, turning it over and over in his hands. It was thick, probably containing more than one page, and didn’t look too old. Finally he opened it with a knife.

Three pages, handwritten, were inside.

Nick scanned the first few lines, then started to read in earnest, paling as he began to understand what this was. His fingers started to tremble and he slammed the pages down, taking a deep breath. He raked a hand through his hair and tried to control the reaction to just the first page.

It was the last letter of his aunt to him, written just before she had come to his house, just before they had taken that fateful walk outside when the reaper had attacked them both.

She had planned this. Knowing she was dying, knowing that he would be the next Grimm, she had staged her death in a way that ensured his survival. She hadn’t counted on the reapers coming so close, coming into protected territory.

It had been her idea.

It had been her contingency plan.

And Renard had known.

The knot in his stomach was leaden and heavy, settling in and making it hard to think.

Renard, his captain and as of late his life-partner, had known, had helped, and he had… he had done as she had asked. Marie Kessler had wanted to die quickly; Nick had managed to stop that plan because of his natural instinct to protect.

 _You knew!_ he screamed in his head.

Maybe it transmitted through the bond.

Renard had known! He had actively helped Marie kill herself!

 _Forgive me, Nick_ , the letter said. _I wanted to teach you so much, but I couldn’t. My pain was too great. I lost not only my sister and her husband, but also more._

_I lost nearly everybody I cared about._

_It never worked out because I never could get very close to them._

_It changed me. The cancer changed me. I killed, Nick. Indiscriminately. They feared my name, they feared the whispers of the Grimm. I had power over them, but it didn’t bring back what I had lost. There was never any peace._

_My time on this planet was up and I knew I would leave my heritage to you. I had tried to shield you from it all and that was my mistake. I tried rectifying it._

So she had met with Renard, knowing fully well who he was, but the reapers had nearly finished it all too soon.

Sean had known. Sean had played his part.

_I apologize, Nick. For everything you had to go through, for everything that will still happen. I never meant for you to follow in my footsteps.And though you have to, I had wanted to ease you into the work of a Grimm, remember my own beginnings, my old life, and show you that there is more than violence and darkness._

_But I failed. They are so close, Nick, the reapers. And there is hardly anyone I can still trust. I need to end this quickly, on my terms, and with the Guardian of this city on my side. You need his protection. He needs you, too._

_Be yourself, Nick Burkhardt. Be the person I never could be. Don’t let the darkness claim you._

He read over the last sentence again and again. 

Marie had told him only to hunt the bad ones, to trust his instincts. She hadn’t told him that there was someone he could turn to, someone to trust. She had been unable to tell him anything about the protector of Portland.

And maybe that had been planned, too.

He had done pretty good so far and he had survived without Grimm training, whatever that entailed. And he had trusted his instincts, which had never failed him.

Even with Sean Renard.

Nick closed his eyes, feeling the echoes of his anger again, feeling the bond strain. He ignored it.

 _You should have told me!_ he thought furiously, though with less fire than before.

He needed a time out. He needed to be away.

* * *

“I knew it,” Monroe groused as he opened the door and was faced with the well-known figure of Portland’s version of the friendly, neighborhood Grimm.

And no sarcasm in there either. Nick Burkhardt was friendly and he was neighborly in his own way. As a Grimm he was the best that could have happened to Portland.

He was also sometimes the worst that could have happened to Monroe, who had been Nick’s go-to guy in too many cases to count. Now, aside from Grimm stuff, he had become an agony aunt for all things mate-related. As if Monroe was one to know about such things! But he listened, which was mostly enough, and knowing how bull-headed Nick was, and how territorial regnants were, and possessive and cold and political, it was a small miracle Nick hadn’t done more than just grumble about it all.

Monroe would probably have brought out the axe.

Then again, looking at Nick’s stormy face, maybe it was axe-time.

“What did he do this time?” he asked as Nick walked inside. “Oh, and yes, do come in. At one in the morning, I might add!”

“Sorry,” Nick apologized. “I didn’t notice the time. Uh…”

Monroe rolled his eyes. How could a grown man, a Grimm, for God’s sake!, look like a lost, beaten puppy?! From day one of meeting Nick, Monroe had noticed the wide-eyed look, the reflection of need and wonder and soul-deep confusion at some things. It had been endearing and had caught him off guard. Nick hadn’t been the Grimm of his childhood nightmares; he had been… different.

“Stay. Beer?”

Nick nodded and accepted the cold brew when Monroe handed him one.

“So?” the blutbad poked carefully. “This is about Renard, right? Not some case?”

“Yeah. About him.”

“What did he do?”

“Kill me aunt?”

Monroe froze, bottle halfway to his mouth. He let it sink down again, staring at the other man, daring him to lie. But Nick wasn’t lying. It was plain to see.

“He what?”

Nick sank down on the couch, twirling the bottle in his hands. “I was at the trailer and found a letter from my aunt. Something she wrote just before she came to my house, before the reaper tried to kill her. After she had talked to Renard.”

Monroe blinked and sat down as well.

And Nick told him about the letter, what it had said, what his aunt had done, what Renard had lied to him about. And more.

“Dude…” he said slowly.

Marie Kessler had been a nightmare, but she had also been Nick’s aunt and surrogate mother. She had been his family, had raised him, and she had kept the Grimm heritage from him as long as possible. Nick had once told him that she had been in love with a steinadler, which had floored Monroe just a bit, and that the death of her sister had changed that. Everything had changed. She had had to raise a young boy, had to uphold her normal life while also hunting wesen. And she had turned her back on the man she loved.

That Renard had orchestrated her death… by her demand, because she wished it, because she wanted Nick to become the next Grimm and survive for more than a minute…

“Geez,” he muttered and shook his head.

“He knew all that and he never told me!” Nick snarled, startling his friend. “He played it all out! Like a lot of things, most likely!”

“Politics,” Monroe said. “Not my kind of playing field, really, but it’s a harsh game.”

Gray eyes flared and the blutbad almost recoiled from the anger and power he saw in there. 

“He played that game with me, Monroe! He claims I’m his mate, that he loves me, that he needs me, but he’s been manipulating me all that time! He lied to me! About Marie, about everything!”

Nick got up, body thrumming with anger and pain and betrayal. Monroe watched, hackles rising as his instinctual side told him that currently the Grimm was dominant and that it wouldn’t be a good idea to confront him right now. Nick looked deceptively innocent, but he wasn’t. For one, he was a trained police officer. That alone was something to be careful of. And he had the reactions and instincts of a Grimm. That on top made him a lot more than the wide-eyed newcomer into the wesen world he had been so long ago.

“You said she arranged it all, asked him to help her die,” Monroe said carefully. “So he didn’t kill her in cold blood. The reapers on the other hand…”

Nick glared at him. “I had to read it in a letter I found by accident, Monroe! He knew and he didn’t tell me! He knew!”

“Well, yeah, there’s that.”

“I know he’s a bastard! I know he’s cold and ruthless and calculating when it comes to his territory and everyone in it. I know how he treats his own sister while she’s visiting! I know it all! I’m mated to that bastard!”

“But he could have told you about Marie?”

“Yes!” Anger flared in Nick’s eyes again and Monroe warily watched the Grimm. “I’m aware of a lot about Renard! I know so much already! Why not tell me that little tidbit? What did he think he could gain?”

“Have you talked to him?”

Nick’s eyes sparked. “No! Because I’m not sure I can without trying to kill him!”

Monroe winced. “Oh. That bad. And the bond?”

“He better not try anything because I’ve shut it down!”

Another wince. Monroe hadn’t even known Nick could do that. Then again, psychic bonds and regnant mates and stuff like that weren’t his expertise. He didn’t know what it would do to Renard, how much he would feel, how much he suffered from the loss of contact. Regnants created the bond and blocking it would probably create tension.

“What do you want to do now? He’s your boss at work. You can’t evade him.”

“I have three more sick days left. We’ll see after that.” Nick let his back fall against the wall, suddenly looking drained. His eyes were darker, open and vulnerable, and he shook his head. “What am I supposed to do, Monroe?”

“Uhm, actually you’re asking the wrong guy, Nick. Killing and stuff… pretty common in my family. No apologies or explanations. Applying your morals to it makes us killers. To us it was… kinda normal, you know.” He shrugged, slightly embarrassed. He was reformed and his old life seemed like a horror movie at times. “For Renard… he’s a regnant, Nick. It’s what he was born and raised as. What he does isn’t governed by human morals and ethics. What he does, he does for his protectorate, and now for you, too. You’re his mate. ”

Nick was silent, staring at the floor.

“And he did what your aunt asked him to. She did it to protect you, too. I doubt she knew that you’d bond with him, become his mate. He wouldn’t have approached that topic if not for the coins, right?”

A nod. 

“I guess you have to talk to him sometime. You should do it rather sooner than later.”

Monroe knew it was crappy advice, but it was the only one he could give.

Nick didn’t answer, but he accepted a second beer. He also stayed when Monroe switched on a movie, and he actually crashed on the couch for the night, which was nothing new.

It also didn’t surprise him to find a text message on his phone when he checked it not much later. Nick was asleep, victim of too much alcohol but not really drunk into a stupor.

‘He’s at my place. Drunk. Don’t you dare come here. Get it straightened out’ he texted back. 

‘I will’ was the reply. ‘Take care of him’.

Monroe rolled his eyes. ‘Of course I will!’

‘Thank you, Monroe’.

He looked at the message, wondering.

Then he went upstairs to get some well-deserved sleep.

 

tbc...


	7. Chapter 7

He had heard the cry of outrage and betrayal and pain. He had almost fallen flat on his face with the strength of the outburst, the flood of pure emotions, and Sean Renard had realized that Nick had found out.

About Marie Kessler, about his involvement in her death.

Sitting against the wall, leaning sideways so he was partially resting against the floor-to-ceiling window panes of his apartment, the regnant let the coolness of the glass seep through his skin.

Nick knew.

And it had hurt him, just like Renard had thought it would.

The force with which the bond had slammed shut had almost made him throw up. He had never felt something like this before in all his life; well, he had never been connected to anyone like his Grimm before in all his life.

Mireille’s words had been like an omen.

Now it was up to Nick to make a decision, but if he left, if he turned his back on Portland and the man guarding it, Sean knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

He might lose his greatest asset, something he had fought to have and hold, someone who was his equal in everything.

* * *

He didn’t pull his punches. Each blow was measured and applied with full force. Muscles rippled under the sweat covered skin as the slender figure kicked and punched at the hapless bag that swung suspended between ceiling and floor, the heavy coils of steel rope creaking. More blows rained down on the hard leather bag, ferocious, quick, and without mercy. 

Nick’s chest heaved with each breath as he forced his body beyond the point of pain, pushing himself past his limit once more, testing his endurance. His t-shirt was soaked in sweat already, his legs felt tired, his arms heavy, but still he went against his dummy opponent, adrenaline surging again and again, driving him on.

A last blow had the bag swinging once more. With a puff of air he staggered away, his hands blazing with pain, his legs trembling with fatigue. He was panting, drenched in sweat, his hair slick.

This had been far beyond a normal work-out. It had been like a dam breaking inside him, like back inside the ring at the Lowen Games. He had pushed and pushed until his body screamed and he couldn’t go any further. 

Sinking to his knees, he stared at the wrappings around his hands, noting in dismay that he was bleeding. He had some first aid spray in his gym bag.   
Nick unwrapped his knuckles and found the damage worse than the last two days he had spent in this place, hammering away at the bag, working out his pain and frustration and other waves of emotions. He hadn’t given the wounds any chance to heal and the first aid spray wouldn’t really do the trick this time. He would just have to live with it for now. Other, more important things were currently keeping his mind occupied.

Sean Renard.

His life-partner and bonded mate. The man he had trusted. 

Nick closed his eyes and crumbled the bandages into a ball, ignoring the stings from the cracked skin.

He still trusted him. It was hard to change that, but now there was a bitter taste to it all. Like he had been made a fool, like everyone had known but him. He had been part of a play acted out by his aunt and Renard, and his mate hadn’t found it important enough to tell him!

Nick had taken his sick days and he had been everywhere but his house, near Renard’s apartment, or even the police station. 

It felt like the ground had been pulled out from under him. He was off balance, he craved a companionship that he didn't allow himself to experience, and every night was colder and lonelier than the one before. He wanted to reach out toward the other man, but he refused to give in to the need.

He was stronger than that. He could deal with it. He had to deal with his own emotions before he could confront the source of it all. He had to make a choice, had to make sense of it, then take the next step.

Walking into the shower, Nick tried to forget. He tried to let the water wash away the pain of strained muscles and betrayal and pain.

He exhaled explosively, water spraying from his lips. 

He had to make a decision. Turn away from Renard, from his mate, from everything… or accept it. Accept the man, his actions, his lies, Marie’s words. The truth.

It wouldn’t be so hard, Nick mused darkly, if he didn’t have feelings. If he didn’t really like Sean, like him a lot, wanted him, needed him to some degree. He loved the other man, plain and simple. It had nothing to do with the connection; that had never influenced him. He hadn’t fallen head over heels, he hadn’t been under any kind of influence… he had simply come to like Renard and then feel a lot more.

Now that was laced with that bitter flavor of Sean’s actions as it turned out. 

*

Despite the cold, Nick had gone out to take a brisk walk, clear his head and Monroe accompanied him. He had only briefly complained about the weather, then fallen in step with the smaller man, until they had run into a jagerbar Nick knew only too well. Frank Rabe. It hadn’t come as a great surprise that Barry wasn’t that far from his father. Both had been dressed outdoor style, with backpacks and camping gear.

 

_“This isn’t what you might think,” the lawyer immediately said._

_“A family hiking trip?” Nick asked amiably. “In the middle of winter?”_

_The other man blinked, then nodded cautiously, his expression still guarded. Barry looked downright sour._

_“It’s something we’ve started doing ever since…”_

_Ever since his wife had nearly killed them after trying to uphold ancient tradition that involved hunting humans to death and disemboweling them._

_“I understand. I’m just taking a walk.”_

_Rabe nodded. “There’s a cabin. We rented it. Would you like to come for something hot to drink?”_

_Reading no ill intent in the other man, briefly glancing at Monroe, who seemed only slightly tense, he had nodded._

 

Warming up to another had been slow, almost impossible, but it hadn’t surprised Monroe all that much that the two jagerbars had thawed a little. Especially after Monroe had shown them who and what he was. That had drawn wide-eyed looks that had transformed in a million questions.

So they had actually, in all reality, gotten together for coffee and donuts. A Grimm, two jagerbars and a blutbad.

It had been the strangest thing. Monroe had been tense, guarding his best friend because he really didn’t trust the younger Rabe not to do something stupid. 

He hadn’t. 

It had been a pleasant surprise.

*

Nick was out on the wrap-around porch of the large cabin that clearly belonged to the Rabes, bundled up against the cold, enjoying the clear, crisp air. Around him was nothing but forest. He wasn’t surprised to hear someone approach, different steps than Monroe’s, and he nodded at Frank as he raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Both men stood together for a while, then Rabe shot the Grimm a look.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

Nick gave the man a surprised look. “What for?”

“Handling my wife’s case as you did.”

“I’m a cop, Mr. Rabe. It’s how we deal with matters.”

“You’re a Grimm. And please call me Frank.”

Nick gave him a quick smile. “Foremost a cop, with a Grimm side to it. I know my family has a bad name. At least my aunt. But that’s not me.”

“I know that now. I realized it while you were looking for the kidnapped humans.” He played with a leaf. “I heard rumors since then. I’m not as involved in politics as you might think, but I hear things.”

“Things?”

“About you. How you handle matters, how you are fair and just and different. That the Guardian of Portland has… personally accepted you as his, what shall I call it, arbitrator?” He hesitated, then added almost carefully, “That you are bonded?” An eyebrow rose quizzically.

Nick was silent, evading the dark eyes. The simple words had opened the wounds again and they were hurting even more.

“Nick? I’m sorry if I overstepped. I wasn’t interrogating you, or prying in some other way. I apologize…”

“No, it’s okay. It’s just… those politics are a thorn and a curse and something I don’t understand. Since I ran into you throughout the missing persons case a lot happened. I learned more in those months than in the past years. Some stuff is hard to accept. Some other stuff makes a lot of sense. Like the arbitrators the Grimms were once, a long time ago.” He chewed on his lower lip. “And yes, we bonded. I’m surprised you heard about it.”

Rabe smiled. “I might not be involved in politics, but I have sources I can trust. And we talk. Portland is known to be a protectorate, which draws many wesen here. We all know that the Guardian is a hard ruler, but fair. Other cities aren’t that lucky.”

Nick recalled Maurice, Renard’s older brother, and grimaced. He didn’t really want to think about his kind of ruling.

“What does your source tell you about the death of Marie Kessler?”

Rabe raised his eyebrows. “The reapers were after her. She was a dark Grimm, ready to kill at the slightest provocation. I know she would have shot me and my wife and my son and his friends… no questions asked. Why do you ask?”

“She was my aunt.”

The jagerbar paled, eyes wide. “Marie Kessler was your aunt?”

“Yes.”

The jagerbar was rallying with that. “I… what I said… no offense…”

“None taken.” Nick gave him a quick smile. “That’s one of the things I’ve learned lately. My aunt was more than the mild-mannered librarian I knew. And the Guardian killed her.”

“I can’t believe that, Nick! Not unless she attacked someone under his protection!”

He shook his head. “Well, she asked him to help her die. To transfer the power abruptly, not through a slow death. She had cancer,” Nick added.

“So she made a deal with the ruler in charge of the city you lived in.”

“Yes.”

“Your… mate?”

Nick nodded.

“Now you feel betrayed?”

“I’m not sure what to feel.”

Frank chuckled. “When it comes to politics, that’s nothing new. Human politics are bad enough. In the world of wesen… there is a lot more than what we see on the surface. Sometimes things get stirred up… and I believe you did a lot of that stirring yourself without even knowing about it. You’re different, Nick, and now the mate of a powerful Guardian.”

“Who lied to me.”

“And who will keep doing so,” the jagerbar added, blunt and painfully direct. “There are good lies and bad lies, lies to protect and lies to hurt. Your aunt lied, your mate lied… and people you meet every day lie. I know. I’m a lawyer.” He smiled. “I get lied to every single day. My own wife was a liar. It almost cost me my only child; what it did take away was my wife.”

“I’m sorry,” Nick murmured. He knew that she had committed suicide, unable to bear the shame, unable to live with the permanent disability she had suffered from the stakes. 

“Don’t be. I don’t hate you or blame you. You opened my eyes in many ways. What you have to do is open your eyes to things that you weren’t raised with. Like the ancient traditions of my kind. Jagerbars have the roh-hatz. I saw it as an outdated relic from ancient times, in the caves and relying on instinct. My wife saw it as a family value to be upheld. You are looking from the outside in, applying human emotions and logic to a regnant’s behavior. The Guardian does what he has to do, what he was taught and raised for.”

Nick let his eyes linger on the trees around them. Everything was still quiet. “I know what you’re saying,” he answered quietly. “But it doesn’t change the fact that he could have easily told me about my aunt’s last wish, her plan, her reason to do this, after we shared more than bed space.”

“Did you talk with your mate?” Frank asked.

“No.”

“You should. You’re new to the Grimm, even now. Like I said, you didn’t grow up in the creature world; you apply human thinking to our world. Your mate is a powerful creature. He has to follow certain rules, even if it hurts you. But I doubt he would ever endanger you through his actions.”

All Frank had said so far was nothing but the truth.

He was so fucked up.

“I realize that her death was planned, by my aunt herself. She wanted it. I’m just pissed off, you know.”

“That he didn’t tell you.”

He nodded. Part of him wondered why he was telling all of this to the lawyer. Maybe because he was a neutral party, unlike Monroe, who was his best friend and would most likely always side with Nick. And Frank had a better idea of wesen politics than many.

Noise from inside interrupted them. It sounded like Barry and Monroe getting into an argument over a video game and who was cheating. Nick shot the older man a brief smile, then they went back inside where Barry was beating Monroe at some kind of battle game. 

The blutbad looked up when Nick approached and the Grimm gave him a smile.

He was okay.

Nothing had happened with Frank. 

And yes, they would talk later.

Monroe’s character was blown up a second later, much to Barry’s crowing delight, and Monroe vowed vengeance. Nick grabbed another controller, grinning when he joined the fight.

 

The four men parted ways around late afternoon when Nick and Monroe went back to the parking lot. 

“Talk to him,” Frank only said, voice and expression serious.

“I will.”

And he would. He had to. By now the bond was painfully empty.

“And if you want to… call…” The jagerbar smiled slightly. “I might give you a few pointers concerning legal and political moves.

Nick gave him a surprised, then thankful look. “Thanks. I just might take you up on that.”

 

tbc


	8. Chapter 8

The weather had changed abruptly, which was nothing new, and the bad weather front had already been expected.

Renard woke and blinked into the near-darkness of the room. He was alone, in his condo, in his bed; a bed he had shared with his mate just mere weeks ago.

It was empty and cold, just like Sean was feeling

The sky was dark and foreboding, the clouds racing across the black and dark grey sea. The violent wind pushed them ahead faster and faster, and rain fell like sheets, drowning the streets. Everywhere, sewers gurgled, trying to manage the gallons of water, and some basements were flooded. An underground line had to be closed down due to water damage. Traffic had nearly died down by now and everyone who really, really didn't have to be outside wasn't any more.

Getting up, walking barefooted through the quiet, empty place, Renard felt the restlessness come back. It was a feeling that had been with him ever since the bond had shut down. It was a feeling he had tried to get accustomed to and was failing. So far he had buried himself in work. It hadn’t helped.

Thunder rumbled ominously through the twilight darkness, sometimes lightning flashes accompanied the noise the weather made.

Sean gazed out over the flooded streets and drowning gardens of the neighborhood. Another thunder clash rattled the windows, but he didn’t even so much as flinch.

Looking inward, facing the darkness where usually his connection to Nick resided, the regnant watched and waited and hoped.

Five days now.

No contact at all.

He knew Nick had left Portland, had gone away to wherever, and maybe he even knew it if he searched his memories. He had contacts everywhere and he would be able to track his mate, but something inside him, cold and dark as well, curled up and suffered the separation.

Nick had cut himself off; completely. Not a single hum came through. He wasn’t dead, but he was… removed.

The rain beat harder against the panes, almost like hail but not quite yet, and the regnant could feel the worsening weather with every sense. Soon there would be snow accompanying the rain.

The drumming noise of large drops splashing on the roof above had a strangely lulling effect. But he couldn’t relax.

Sean ached. Something inside him was cold and freezing and he felt his hands starting to shake. He balled them into fists, gnashing his teeth, angry at his loss of control, angry at his inability to… know and do and simply fix what had to be done and known and fixed.

He was at a loss how to heal the gap between them because… because all he had done was fulfill a contract he had had with a dying Grimm. What he had done had been for his protectorate. Renard hadn’t given the idea of a mate a thought, least of all a Grimm mate. At the time Nick Burkhardt had been the new Grimm about to ‘come online’. Nothing more, nothing less.

Now he had become so much more and Renard had failed.

He functioned, simple as that. He went to work, did what was expected of him as the captain, but as far as anything else was concerned, he had shut down.

Thunder rumbled across the by now black sky and he let the low sound run through him. The rain, if at all possible, increased, as if trying to wash away the damage caused.

But it wasn’t so easy.

Never easy.

Renard smiled tiredly. He could just hope that he hadn’t destroyed something that was by now more important to him than anything else, even his political position.

* * *

Nick had gone back to work and found Hank welcoming him warmly, then dumping a new caseload into his lap. Nick was actually grateful for it, though he shot his partner a glare, just for good measure, and he buried himself in work. It was how he could ignore the echoing emptiness in his head. The bond had never been active enough to be more than a hum, but that he actually missed. They had never been telepathic, more light a light kind of empathy. He had discerned moods and general well-being when it came to his mate, but that was about it.

Now that was gone. Not that Nick needed it to survive. He hadn’t had it for all his life and he hadn’t grown all that used to it. Not really. Not that much.

Sean on the other hand… Did Nick truly understand what it meant to the regnant? Did he really know how far he was pushing the man?

Answer: no. He had no clue. Still, right now he couldn’t care less. He was angry; he wanted to be angry.

Seeing Renard on a near-daily basis didn’t help.

Nick was polite, distant, letting Hank do the reporting and he tried not to look at the other man too much. No one at work knew about their private connection and they had never shown it in any way. There had been no meaningful looks or lingering touches. It had been a work relationship so far and nothing of their more private and intimate relationship had spilled.

When there was no other choice but to talk to him, Nick was completely professional. Renard reacted likewise, but the green eyes reflected something deep inside.

Nick made sure the shields were up.

No, he wasn’t childish.

But he didn’t want the regnant to think it was forgive and forget all the way. This was more than Captain Sean Renard hiding he was a wesen. This was a lot more.

Renard seemed to accept the distance, almost stoical and very much composed at times, and Nick made sure they didn’t run into each other without at least someone else present.

The bond stayed silent, though only once he felt a diffuse pressure as if the break was trying to heal itself. Or Renard was trying that.

He wouldn’t give in that easily. He had never been easy.

Nick had yet to sell the house he had inherited from his aunt after her death, the house he had stayed in alone as of late. He had spent so much time at his mate’s condo, the house now felt almost alien to him.

Right now it was home.

As was Monroe’s place. The blutbad simply rolled his eyes, opened the door wide and waved the Grimm inside, overnight bag and all.

Camping out with a friend hadn’t been Nick’s plan at all, but a night turned into two, turned into a week, turned into two weeks. Monroe just gave him pointed looks now and then, as if he was trying to get Nick to think about what he was doing and solve the problem.

He was trying to.

And he spent his free time at the trailer when he wasn’t helping a wesen or hunting down a bad guy. Sometimes he thought he felt Renard close, like he was being watched by the Guardian, but he could never pinpoint that feeling. Even if the regnant was around, he didn’t actively interfere; thankfully.

*

“Aren’t you pushing it just a little bit too much?” Monroe asked one night over a beer.

Nick raised his brows, gray eyes unreadable.

“I know you’re punishing your mate over this whole killing-your-aunt-by-her-request-and-shutting-up-about-it business, but dude! She wanted it that way. He didn’t murder her. They had a plan and they went through with it; for you.”

“It’s not about that any more, Monroe.”

“Enlighten me. What is it about?”

“I’m supposed to trust him, right? He’s my mate.”

“Yes to the second statement. Conditional yes to the first.” Monroe took a deep swallow. “You can trust him not to harm you. You can trust him that he would never betray you to gain an advantage. You can’t fault him for following your aunt’s request to help you. He is the Guardian of Portland. She came to him for a favor to save you, to keep you safe, and to help you with your heritage.”

“He never told me,” Nick repeated his earlier argument.

“He might have one day. And it was something between him and your aunt. Like a contract. He fulfilled it. He has no obligation to tell you about it or anything else in his past, Nick.”

Nick was silent. They had talked about this on and off, in different ways, throughout the past weeks.

“And hurting him through cutting the bond is cruel, Nick.”

The Grimm looked up sharply.

“I’m no expert,” Monroe acquiesced, holding up his hands as if to ward off an evil glare.

“I’ve no idea about bonds. But you told me that you can feel him sometimes, like a background noise.”

Nick nodded.

“And he can probably feel you, too.”

“Yes, he can.”

“So you’re cutting him off from his mate. He’s been pretty civil about it,” Monroe remarked. “For a wesen that are known to be primal and territorial.”

Nick didn’t answer.

“Do you hate him for it?”

That brought the Grimm up sharp. “No!”

Monroe gave him a ‘go on’ look.

“I just… I’m not sure letting him back in like that would… it’s just… I’m not going to forgive and forget, Monroe. He lied tome. He manipulated my life to the point when I found out about him. After that, he couldn’t any more. He wouldn’t have said a thing.”

“Which I totally understand.”

“I don’t hate him. I just need some time.”

“And for him to stew?” the blutbad asked.

“Kinda.”

“Huh.”

Nick shrugged and emptied his beer, pointedly concentrating on the movie again. Monroe caught the hint and let the matter drop; for now.

If Nick was anyone but the regnant’s mate, he would be playing a dangerous game. But he was that mate and the mate was more powerful that an outsider would give him credit for. Renard didn’t depend on him to live, but he also wasn’t the controlling bastard many might see. He was devoted and loyal in his own way, he protected Nick and he would never dominate him.

Monroe understood both sides. He only hoped that Nick would be able to, too.

He wasn’t really surprised to run into the topic of their discussion no twenty-four hours later, outside his home, watching him with hooded eyes.

“He’s still pissed off,” Monroe remarked without preamble.

“I figured,” was the wry reply.

And Renard looked like he hadn’t slept a single night for more than an hour, Monroe thought. The lines of his face were sharper than ever, the eyes holding a darkness that told of too little sleep and too many thoughts about what had happened. He was impeccably dressed, but that didn’t hide the otherwise disastrous condition of the powerful creature.

“And you look like crap,” Monroe added. “Your highness.”

Renard smiled dimly. “Probably. Is he okay?”

So the bond was truly broken because otherwise Renard would have been able to tell easily.

“Yeah. Camping out in my guest room, eating my food, drinking my beer and my coffee, but otherwise we’re happily sharing living space. I always wanted to have a Grimm roomie who mopes about moodily all night.”

Renard briefly closed his eyes, looking older, more tired, almost to the brink of exhaustion.

“I know I made a mistake, Monroe, but I never considered the possible outcome of my deal with Marie Kessler. I agreed to her plan because at the time it made the most sense, and it worked best for my protectorate. I knew Nick as my subordinate, I knew he was a damn good detective, and having a Grimm on my side, working with me… Marie and I realized it was the only way.”

“It sounds good on paper, but emotions are another matter. He likes you more than he hates you, though,” the blutbad added neutrally. “Make something of it.”

“I won’t hunt him down.”

“It would probably get you an axe to the head,” was the dry remark.

Renard chuckled. “Probably. Thanks for being a friend to him, Monroe.”

And then he was gone, leaving a thoughtful blutbad behind.

 

tbc...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who left a positive review since I seem to have acquired a troll/flamer on other sites, which I now have left behind. Thank you to everyone! Really, thank you. You are who kept me going through the writing of the chapters. I was this close to just tossing th ewhole idea of writing in this fandom, which seems to have a few very vicious, mostly anonymous trolls. In all my years of writing I've never run into such behavior in the fandoms I chose. Grimm apparently draws them out and a few innocent remarks set them off into a flaming hatred.
> 
> I promise to finish this story. :)

Nick had picked up the phone three times and always put it down again, the last time after having pulled up the number and staring at it for a good five minutes.

Finally he did call and it was kind of awkward.

Topped only by the face-to-face when Frank Rabe opened the door to his home and gave Nick a careful smile.

“I didn’t think you’d really take me up on my offer,” the lawyer said as he led him inside.

Nick knew the layout of the house; he had been here on a case. A lot had changed since then. All the tastefully arranged art was gone, leaving open rooms that looked like they were missing something, though not what. There were no more bear masks or carved figures or strange weaponry.

Frank smiled grimly at him. “After… after it all, I changed things. Not just on the outside. Everything. I never wanted this. It wasn’t what I wanted my son to learn.”

Nick held up a hand, giving the jagerbar a calming smile. “I understand, Frank. Completely. And you don’t have to justify what you did.”

Rabe exhaled explosively, clearly agitated. “I’m sorry. It’s… all of this… even after the cabin… is unusual.”

“Tell me about it.”

Frank nodded. “You want coffee? Or a soda? I’m not sure about a beer.”

“Soda’s fine.”

Settling down with their drinks, Nick smiled again, trying to project that he wasn’t here for anything but help.

“I want to understand wesen politics. Not the details, just… what I might need. Because I do need an edge in this.”

“You’re not a politician, Nick.”

“No, just mated to one. I didn’t think it would be easy to have a regnant as a bonded mate, but after everything… after the whole mess with Aunt Marie…” He stopped, feeling those old scars ache again. “I didn’t think I’d have to know more than the history of each creature I faced, had to deal with or that approached me. There’s nothing on politics in the books my ancestors kept.”

“Grimms were never involved in politics, Nick. What they were…” He shrugged. “Nightmares. Killers. Judge, jury and executioners.”

“But I’m not that guy!”

Frank smiled. “No, you’re not. Definitely not.”

“And I need to know more than what a book tells me.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Whatever you can. About connections between different wesen, politically. And what you know about… my mate.”

Rabe’s brows rose.

Nick sighed and scrubbed a hand over his forehead. “I know what he is. I know he does everything to protect his territory. I just want to understand… him.”

“That… might take a while. I’m no expert and I never played the political ball game, but I was close enough. And I know a little about regnants, though that’s mostly from hearsy.”

Nick smiled briefly. “I’ll take whatever you got.”

* * *

It took an eisbiber to finally jumpstart their relationship back into gear.

Sort of anyway.

Well, actually it were two reapers who had been sent to take out the Portland Grimm. It spoke of their lack of information and intel that they actually took on the job after Renard had warned them off. It spoke of an unlimited stupidity to come into his protectorate, attack his mate and think they would get away with it.

Renard hadn’t been in the loop because Nick had still been distant, but no longer sending in Hank for the reports, and while Sean had known about the hässlichen and their contracts with the eisbiber owned construction companies, he hadn’t heard about the reapers.

His mate was unharmed. He had defeated two reapers, taken their heads off. There hadn’t been a scratch on him, though maybe a hidden bruise or two.

Monroe had told him all about it, about the training in the woods, about the case, about the trolls.

And Renard had felt proud; incredibly, stupidly proud of his Grimm, of his mate, of Nick Burkhardt who had opened up to his gift and his abilities. He had seen it in his stride the next time he saw Nick, had felt it in the waves of power he gave off, and he craved to feel it through the bond.

His.

His alone.

Despite everything, despite the pain and the loneliness and the guilt, Renard couldn’t be but possessive and claim the Grimm as his.

Their eyes met over the file when Nick dropped off the report and Renard gave him a tentative, tiny smile that relayed his pride, as well as asked about Nick himself.

His mate held the gaze, then smiled slightly himself.

He was okay.

And he had shown the reapers just who they were dealing with. Another tidbit of information Monroe had given him through a brief phone conversation. Nick had sent the heads of the reapers back to their boss.

Renard had never felt so amazingly proud that moment.

Nick was growing; incredibly strong and fast and more than the regnant had ever thought possible.

He was more than Marie Kessler could ever have been and maybe she had known; she had known something about his lineage, about his parents, about his heritage. A heritage that hadn’t been triggered when his mother had died because he had been too young. It had been there, dormant and waiting, for the right moment. 

Renard had helped along and he understood how that had seemed to Nick, how it had hurt his mate, but it had also been Nick’s blessing. He was who he was today because of Marie and her plans, because she had signed an unwritten contract with a Guardian.

 

And because Renard was a Guardian and because the reapers had thrown caution and warnings to the wind, entering his protectorate to kill a Grimm, he retaliated in kind. Nick might have sent a message, a warning of his own kind, but Renard wasn’t a Grimm, nor was he easily appeased when it came to breaking the rules and laws.

Butrell was the first to feel his wrath. Not only did his office go down on charges of corruption, murder and blackmail, as well as whatever else Renard was able to make stick, he went down not much later, together with his companions. Renard felt no mercy for the hässlichen. The man had ordered a hit on a police officer, who happened to be a Grimm and accidentally was also the bonded mate to the Guardian of Portland.

It was slightly satisfactory to see the realization and fear in the troll’s eyes as Renard laid out the facts for him. 

“I didn’t know, your highness,” he whimpered.

It was amazing how such a bear of a man could become a groveling piece of garbage within a moment’s notice. There was true fear, almost terror. No, scrap that. It was terror. Renard could smell it on him, and he hadn’t even shown his true face.

“You should have,” he only stated coldly. “Why do you think I would let a Grimm run free in my protectorate?”

Anyone with two working braincells could have done the math. Portland was a protected city and Grimms were dangerous. No one could accuse a regnant of letting danger run undealt with.

“Sir…”

“He let you live, Butrell. For the sole reason that he is an officer of the law and not a ruthless killer.”

The hässlichen stared at him, pale-faced, sweat on his brow, still showing signs of the roughing up he had endured by the reapers he had hired.

“As his mate I’m very much entitled to take your life. But because I’m his mate I won’t. It’s not what he wants.” He smiled coldly. “Make no mistake. I will tear you apart if you so much as breathe the wrong way ever again.”

Frantic nodding was the answer.

“It would be in your best interest to accept your sentence.”

A murder charge; with corruption and extortion and blackmail on top of it.

“And should you see the light of day again, leave my territory. This is your first and final warning.”

“I will, your highness. Thank you.”

 

And that was that.

At least for the hässlichen. 

The reapers were not shown any mercy and Renard knew that his lust for blood was fueled by the pain he felt at Nick’s continued silence across the bond, as well as his own fury for their attempt on his mate’s life. He unleashed all of it on the man who had agreed to the hit, as well as his companions.

The bodies were never found, but the message was received. 

Adalind returned from her overseas trip with a smile of triumph. She and her sisters had done good work.

 

His rage dealt with, the emotions evening out, Sean tried not to let the cold darkness that was the bond sweep him away again.

There were tiny pulses now and then, Nick actually letting part of him through. It was what kept Renard hoping, what had him watch his detective and turn to the silence whenever Nick was there.

He caught the gray eyes once or twice, saw the wavering resolution, saw the cracking shields, and hope flared. What he had done in the aftermath of the Grosszahn murder hadn’t been retribution; it had been justice and revenge and within the rights of a regnant.

But a small part of him, almost like a primal, instinctive side, had tried to show Nick that despite everything he was a worthy mate. He would protect him, if Nick let him, had protected him so often in the past, and he wouldn’t turn away from him.

Never.

Because even if Nick refused to ever let Sean that close again, he was still his mate, still the Grimm of Portland, and nothing could change that.

* * *

Facing Renard was something Nick hadn’t been looking forward to. The shields were still up, though wavering. Now and then things had… leaked. And some of it had been violent, the next had been despair, then triumph. And once there had been hatred. Not directed at him, more like an echo of something else. It had been shortly after the eisbiber case.

Because of the reapers, Nick now understood. Because they had entered the protectorate and hunted without informing the Guardian. Frank had given him an insight into the territorial behavior of some wesen that not even the bond had been able to relay. He had been a regnant’s mate for less than a year, not even eight months, and no one had ever told him what that really meant. Understanding the complicated web behind the seemingly effortless power Renard wielded was… an eye-opener.

Nick had no idea what mood the other man was in, though it was hard not to miss the painfully composed and shielded expression. And Nick was still too emotional himself. Even if his logical side had come to understand that this hadn’t been an assassination, that it had only looked like one to the outside world, and that his partner had done everything in his considerable power to keep Nick safe and make him part of the protectorate – whether he might one day end up as Renard’s mate or not. 

And that was nothing the regnant could have influenced himself.

Nick was very much aware that he held a lot more power than it looked like to an outsider in this relationship. He was a controlling factor in many things. If he turned his back on the creature, there was nothing Renard could do. If he laid down the rules, the other man would grudgingly have to follow.

There was only one rule: no more lies. No matter how painful, Nick wanted to know what was going on. He didn’t want to be coddled or protected or kept on the sidelines because he was human and might not understand. He was a regnant’s bonded mate and he had to understand what his partner was involved in.

Everything.

Because they were in this together to the end.

His conversations with Frank had shed a lot of light on some of the behavior of the past and he hoped he understood more now. 

Then there had been the Grosszahn murder and the reaper hit. That had taken his mind off Sean for a while, but only to bring it all back with a bang when he had taken out the two reapers and sent his message.

For the first time he had been without back-up. He had been alone and he had won and it had been the Grimm fighting. It had been the primal side inside him, the one that faced a threat and came out to play in a way Nick had never thought he could. His abilities had surprised himself.

It had been then and there, sitting in the dark, damp environment, waiting for Monroe to show up, that he had wanted nothing more than to talk to Renard in that very moment because in a way he suddenly understood so much.

And he understood and accepted the outcome of the hit on him. Renard had sent his own message and he had dealt with matters his own way, because the hit had directly involved him as well. The reapers had broken a million laws, and they had hunted a regnant’s mate. 

Yes, so much made sense now. So much was suddenly clear to him, thanks to Frank Rabe and Monroe and his own perusing of more books than he had read in months.

It was time to face his mate, to repair what could be repaired, to define their relationship anew.

Because they couldn’t go back to what had been before. Nick was no longer who he had been. 

This was more than a relationship between two people. One happened to be a powerful wesen, who also happened to be the ruler of this protectorate; the other was a powerful Grimm, who was also the protectorate’s arbitrator and police.


	10. Chapter 10

“No more lies.”

Looking at the tall, familiar figure, reading all the pain and longing and regret in the barely shielded eyes, Nick was surprised how steady his voice was. His own eyes bore into the green ones of his mate, holding his gaze without wavering, forcing the regnant to acknowledge him as his equal once more.

It wasn’t easy to look into the pale features, the natural olive skin almost gray at the edges. The eyes were duller than Nick had ever seen them, the shields between them rubbed raw and painful. Renard had only put up the front at work, but now, with just them, the strength had waned and was about to dwindle into nothingness.

The bond seemed to echo the same dullness and Nick refrained from biting his lip and feeling guilt.

This hadn’t just been him; it had been both of them and Sean felt the full brunt of his mate’s rejection.

Though Nick had never rejected him. He had needed distance to think, to understand, to integrate yet another freaky, weird and outrageous part of his life into that life..

“No more lies,” he repeated firmly, voice level, composed and cool.

Renard wasn’t the only one who could pull it off. Too much had happened. Nick was at the end of his rope, emotionally as well as mentally. The bond between them was of a psychic nature, so by not allowing it to be open he had hurt them both. He just hadn’t felt it so acutely or immediately. He wanted to touch Sean, wanted to reassure himself that the other was okay, but right now he wasn’t inclined to give in yet.

“I know you didn’t kill her in cold blood,” he stated. “I know it was her idea. As painful as that is alone, I have to accept it.”

Like he had to accept that his aunt, who he had thought was a librarian, had turned out to be a creature hunter with a very bad name, one whispered in fear and terror by the wesen everywhere.

“But you lied to me every step of the way! Even after you claimed I was your balance and you needed me! You left me in the dark about what you being a Guardian means. You wove your own web and expected me to maneuver through it without any information. You manipulated me, Sean!”

“No,” was the soft reply. “I never manipulated you, Nick. I chose to set you onto a task that you were able to complete.”

Nick felt a new surge of anger. “That’s just a good way to describe manipulation! You never told me! You just steered everything the way you needed it to be! Including me! You tried the coins on me, damnit!”

Renard winced. It was a cheap shot, Nick knew. The regnant had fallen under the influence of the coins and he had given in to his baser instincts, to his need to protect and to claim what he saw as rightfully his. 

“I was under the influence.”

“Otherwise you would have just watched from afar, pulling strings, playing me?”

Renard shook his head. “I did what I had to do to protect this city.”

“So taking me as a mate was just another duty?”

The green eyes flared golden and the shock was clear to see, even of the surge of denial bounced off the still erect shield. Nick knew he was using very cheap shots, that he was aiming for low blows, but the past few days had been low blows for him as well. And more.

“No,” the regant managed, voice shaky. “No. Never. No one can take a mate by force. You have to accept me. And you did.”

Nick regarded him, narrowed eyes taking in the pale face, the sharper lines, the still present golden hue. Frank had told him what he knew about regnants. He had told him what could be expected of such fiercely territorial wesen and their disregard for family bonds.

 

_“Many can’t relate, Nick,” he had told the attentive Grimm. “Jagerbar have family clans. Blutbaden, too. Reinigen, maushertz, fuchsbau, all clans or packs. But regnants are extremely set on defending their protectorate and family is a possible usurper to that throne.”_

_“And that makes me?” the Grimm had asked quietly._

_“A mate. Part of that protectorate. Your partner doesn’t see you as competition, if that’s what you think. And Grimms were always the perfect counterparts.”_

_“As enforcers.”_

_“In a way, yes.” The lawyer had watched him cautiously. “But not just as that. You share everything with your mate. As corny as it sounds, Nick, you complete him. He couldn’t any more force this on you than you could think of controlling a creature like him without the connection you share.”_

 

“No more lies,” he insisted. “I want to know what’s going on around me, Sean. I want the truth! From you. Not from someone I have to call and bring me up to speed on politics. I don’t want second or third hand information. I don’t want to run into a situation blindly when you know what’s going on!”

There was a very visible fight going on inside his mate. 

“You let me run with cases involving creatures. You sent me in to keep matters level, to handle it my way! Was it a test? You wanted to see if I survived or whether I would follow my aunt’s footsteps?”

“The inheritance of the full Grimm abilities doesn’t come with a darker nature, Nick,” was the tired reply. “You shape your own actions. How you act is no different than before. You are compassionate and fair and far from trigger-happy.”

He also hadn’t lost someone so violently like his aunt. He didn’t have to give up a partner who loved him despite being a Grimm. Maybe if he lost Renard to something like this, if he was alone in the world and fighting a battle against the reapers and everything else out there, he might just forget about upholding the law and go dark.

Nick shivered.

“Yes, in a way I tested you. I needed to know how you would act and react to protect you from the reapers,” Renard went on. “They wanted your death. I claimed my right as Guardian. You were in my protectorate and it was my decision whether to declare you game or not.”

“So you lied to me.”

“I had to.”

“No more.”

Renard briefly closed his eyes. “Nick…”

“No. More!”

The regnant nodded slowly, defeat only slowly leaking through. Still there was denial left in him and Nick knew this wasn’t going to be their last argument about this whole set-up. 

“I’m not going to hate you because of this,” he added.

Renard’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. Resigned, accepting, tired… exhausted. 

Nick took the initiative, aware that he was in control, and approached the other man. Wary eyes watched him.

“Not knowing about a lot of stuff could get me killed.”

“Knowing about some of this would get you killed, Nick.”

He shrugged. “But I’m not defenseless. You know I’m not. I took out two reapers.”

And he stated it matter-of-factly, calmly, as if it had been anything but intense and dark.

“I’m in this with you. I work in your protectorate, with you, not against you. You have the loyalty of a Grimm, one you are also mated to. You know as well as I do that that alone makes me a target for some. I need to know who to look out for, where to tread lightly. Some of the things in the past were pure luck, Sean.”

“I know,” was the soft answer.

“Then give me a fighting chance!”

Very cheap shot. Nick saw it in the turmoiled expression. Finally Renard nodded again.

“I know you killed the two assassins,” Sean said, quiet pride reflecting in the green eyes. “And I know your message was received. Loud and clear.”

“They didn’t know who I was, right? To you.”

“No.”

“Do they know now?”

“Yes.”

The one word was laced with such a dark, cold hatred, Nick was amazed his partner wasn’t creaturing out just because he recalled the events. This had hit a nerve in more than one person and Nick was aware that blood had been shed by the regnant as well.

“Good,” he only said.

Sean tilted his head, caught by surprise, then a smile spread over his lips.

It was a beginning. A rocky start to try this once more, hopefully without deception and lies. 

Nick held out his hand and the puzzled expression almost had him smile.

“Hello,” he said. “My name is Nick Burkhardt. I’m the Grimm of Portland. I pledge my allegiance and loyalty to you, Sean Renard, Guardian of Portland.”

The regnant stared at him, shock and pleasure and something else warring in his eyes. He finally took the hand and Nick felt the tell-tale tingle of the psychic bond. It was trying to reestablish itself.

“I accept your pledge, Grimm,” was the answer, Renard’s voice holding a tremor only Nick heard. “You are part of my protectorate and I will do everything in my power to protect you as well.”

Nick smiled. He placed one hand against Sean’s chest, feeling the thrum increase. There was so much longing in the other man’s expression, it was almost physically painful.

“I never meant to hurt you,” the regnant said, sliding a careful hand around Nick’s waist.

“But you did. Ignorance isn’t bliss when it come to what you do, Sean. I need to know.”

“You will.”

And then the shields went down completely, opening up the psychic link, and Nick was overwhelmed and shocked and blown away by the very need of his mate.

 

Much to his own horror Renard felt his knees give away and he slid down the wall, shaking from something deep inside him he couldn’t explain or even name. It was a dark ugly pit that had finally burst open after he had vehemently pressed onto its lid for so long. And it burst open with all the coldness and darkness of a black hole, threatening to suck him in just as forcefully. Renard could feel the last pebbles of the granite walls that had been his self control crumble into nothingness and he reached out to the only thing that could stop the landslide of his mind. 

“I couldn’t _feel_ you,” he whispered harshly. 

There was suddenly someone there. Arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, pulled him close. He leaned against the warm and very real body as Nick wrapped himself around him, both physically and over the bond, whispering soothing things he didn’t even understand, didn’t need to understand. Something inside him keened softly and gave, and he clenched his fists into Nick’s shirt, needing to feel. The psychic connection flared to life once again, powerful and energetic, and then all Sean was capable of feeling was Nick’s presence. 

Nick whispered apologies, his lips ghosting over one temple, fingers sliding over his skin, over clothes, into his hair.

Renard just felt. He forgot all about composure and facades and control. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care right now.

His mate was back.

Finally. Alive. Warm. 

Not cold. 

He leaned closer, hesitantly pressing his lips against the other man’s, feeling like a teenager at his first date. 

Nick met the almost shy kiss, hands touching him carefully. When they separated, Renard tried to gauge his mate’s reaction to the intimate contact. He didn’t see any disgust or anger, which was good. But there was a twinkle, which he didn’t really like.

“You call that a kiss, Captain?” Nick asked, teasing. The gray eyes had lit up with something that Sean thought was very, very bad.

Before he could reply – or even make sense of the suddenly playful words -- the Grimm grabbed him and his lips came down on his mouth, stealing his breath, a questing tongue demanding and finding access. Renard responded to the assault, feeling the primal side rumble with approval by the demanding and claiming kiss. 

Finally Nick let go, swiping his tongue over Renard’s lower lip as he came up for air, eyes alight. 

“That’s a kiss,” he declared breathlessly.

Renard chuckled, feeling the last stifling bands around his chest evaporate. He enjoyed the closeness, the gentle waves coming off the psychic link. It was like a life boat for a drowning man, getting pulled to safety inch by inch, and he clung to it all, control be damned.

Nick kissed him again, gentler this time, exploring instead of conquering, and Sean responded in kind. He wrapped his arms around the compact frame, drawing his mate closer. The kisses grew in intensity and Nick nipped at Renard’s jaw, then his throat, trailing a path down to the collar bone. A soft exhalation answered him. 

The regnant bit back on the more unrestrained reaction, aware that he had to do this at Nick’s pace. They kissed for a long time, just exploring each other’s mouths, their bodies melting against each other.

Nick finally pulled back, flushed and slightly disheveled, and Renard clung to the hum of the bond, feeling it stronger now, healing, weaving back into the single, powerful connection between them.

Gray eyes regarded him calmly, boring into his soul, searching and hopefully finding what he needed. Sean held that gaze, open, shields still down.

Nick raked gentle fingers through his short hair. “I want to know, Sean.”

He nodded. “Everything.”

“Then tell me.”

 

And Sean kept his word. As painful and infuriating and downright dark it was sometimes, Renard told him.

Nick suddenly understood the fine web that had been woven to protect him, to test him, to keep him in line and also simultaneously push the Grimm into learning and emerging more. Renard had done whatever was necessary to follow his goals and equally keep Nick both guarded from others as well as in line when it came to overlapping interests.

Like the Lowen Games.

It had shocked the Grimm to realize that it had been his mate’s decision to rid himself of the unwanted elements in the wesen world, the addicts and low life that interrupted the smooth workings of the protectorate. 

Renard was the center of it all, the master of the weblines, the strings of all the puppets, and it was dark and painful to know, but it also freed him in a way.

Nick knew there would be more. This wasn’t the end. But he had to push it away when working daily cases. So far he had refused to fall back upon Renard’s knowledge when it came to Grimm cases, only involving Monroe, but now it made sense to check with his mate. Politics were a bitch.

Lying together on the hideously wide and expensive couch, both lost in their own thoughts, Sean more or less asleep against him, Nick found the warm presence soothing and more calming than he would have thought. The taller man was clad in a t-shirt and sweat pants, so unlike his normal self at the office. His face was pressed against Nick’s stomach, one hand fisted into the already rumpled, blue shirt, and his breathing was evening out more and more.

Nick didn’t mind.

He was actually quite comfortable and the couch was wide enough.

"I missed this," he said softly, feeling an answering sigh brush his skin.

He had truly missed it a lot. And he had ignored what it had done to the so powerful creature Renard was, how it had decimated his shields, had made him function but not live.

He held that power over the other man. Nick Burkhardt, Grimm. It was amazing and frightening in one. It was what Monroe had tried to tell him, what Frank had explained. There were no all-powerful wesen anywhere; all of them had an Achilles heel. A weak spot. And Nick was Sean’s.

Yes, it was terrifying to know. He was strength and he was weakness in one.

How did Sean handle it?

Badly, if his mate breaks the bond, a nasty voice told him. Just look at him!

Nick drew lazy patterns against the warm skin. He wouldn’t let this happen again. He understood now; he would deal with whatever came his way.

He let Renard doze off, fingers gently carding through the dark hair, a soothing caress.

 

tbc...


	11. Chapter 11

Renard woke to a warm hand caressing the skin underneath his shirt, and a pair of lips nibbling at him.

"Got something in mind?" he murmured as the tongue swiped over one ear.

"You, me, bed... hot, unrestrained sex," Nick answered huskily.

The words, the rough voice, the hooded expression in the gray eyes, all conspired to send Renard's blood straight into his groin. He bit his lower lip as he felt himself harden.

They had been apart for weeks, the psychic bond broken, the regnant alone and forced to wait for his mate to decide. Before he had slept with Nick, he had been forced to watch from afar, too, but afterwards a lot had changed.

Forever.

And he wanted his mate so badly…

Nick grinned at him, very much aware of that.

"Hot?" Sean asked, gazing at the other man as Nick worked the shirt over his head. "Unrestrained?" The shirt was tossed away.

"You and me," the Grimm confirmed.

Deft fingers removed the hindering clothes, exposing Renard to the hungry, gray gaze.

"That sounds… perfect."

The room temperature seemed to rise with each piece of clothing that landed on the floor, and by the time Nick was naked, Renard was close to jumping him. But he wanted this to last. He needed this to last. Slow, passionate, drawn out.

“Bed,” Sean growled, nipping at his throat.

Nick’s breath caught in his throat and he moaned. They kissed each other, savoring the other's warmth and presence.

“Yeah, bed,” he gasped, his own proof of arousal pressing against Renard’s thigh.

It was a haphazard walk-stumble, but they managed it into the bedroom. Just about so. Nick landed on his back, grinning up at the other man, clearly inviting.

Kissing his way down the slender, muscular form, Renard paved a wet, hot trail to the straining arousal, toying with it with his lips, tongue and fingers. He knew just how far to go to keep his mate from hitting the edge, where to suck, nibble and lick to get the maximum reaction, and he was quite aware of how long he could torture Nick before the Grimm started begging and pleading.

He was planning to let everything run to the max today. He needed it; Nick needed it. It had been too long and the primal side in him wanted to reclaim his mate. 

Nick let him.

Running gentle fingers over the muscular thighs, massaging the warm skin, Renard let his tongue lick along the straining erection, nibbling at the head, making Nick writhe. His partner gasped softly, hands clenching into the sheets, hips starting to buck. He grabbed the hips and gently held him down, continuing his oral exploration. 

Nick cried out as he swallowed more of him, running his tongue over the skin. He finally abandoned his prize to kiss and nip at the insides of the thighs.

“Sean!” he exclaimed, breathing harder as questing fingers mapped out well-known territory.  
Renard chuckled and rose slightly, kissing the tense stomach, then carefully rolled Nick onto his side, continuing his trail to one buttock. A moan of appreciation told him he was giving his lover what he wanted. He crawled back to the sinfully desirable lips and demanded a kiss that soon turned into a war of dominance between two agile tongues. 

He felt the power of the Grimm, let it wash over him, entwine with his own. This was what he wanted, his equal, his mate, the powerful Grimm who had taken on incredible opposition and won. 

Nick nipped and lightly bit at his lower lip, the gray eyes flaring.

Gold shimmered in Renard’s eyes and felt the façade shift. 

He faced the other hunter-predator, aware of the danger he was in, of the danger he presented to the Grimm, and it was exhilarating and terrifying in one. Giving in to Nick was surrender and submission, taking Nick was dominance and power. Nothing sat well with Renard and still he – they – found a middle way in all of this. They faced the other, lethal predator and both submitted and dominated in one.

He felt something tremble through him, his soul burning with desire and need.

Nick ran exploring fingers over the sharpening features, smiling knowlingly. The next kiss was deep and hard and the Grimm succumbed in the end, breathing hard, eyes alight with desire.

“I want you,” he whispered.

Renard felt no triumph, only need and want and lust for him. “Your wish is my command,” he answered huskily before kissing him again, ending the kiss with a swipe over the lower lip.

The lube was never far from the bed and Renard believed he could find it in his sleep. Hell, he had found it in the dark after one quick fumble before. Nick rolled onto his stomach and Renard’s breathing grew more ragged. He prepared the man thoroughly, scissoring his fingers inside the tight opening, drawing grunts and exclamations of pleasure.

“Damnit, Sean, please!”. 

He chuckled and positioned himself, entering slowly. An impatient twist of the hips told him that Nick didn’t want slow. Well, bad luck. For now, he still planned to draw this out.

When he was finally sheathed, Sean stopped, hearing the quickened breathing from his partner, the soft groan as he tried to move himself. Renard stopped him.

The beast in him was snarling to be let out, to take back his mate, to claim. He kept it leashed for now.

“My game,” he growled, strong fingers on the slender hips.

“Sean!”

“That’s my name,” he murmured against one ear.

Nick was again pushing back.

The regnant set a slow pace, alternating between deep thrusts and quick jabs that drew a cry of pleasure out of his partner every time. He knew he couldn’t last forever either, but the stimulation for Nick was a lot stronger than for himself. Renard reached for the straining cock, wrapping his hand around it, stimulating it in turn.

“Sean…” Nick begged. “…please… now. You’re killing me!”

He ran his hands over the slick skin, feeling muscles bunch, shiver and twitch.

“Just… please... I…” Renard threw his head back, chest heaving, and calmed himself, stopping his movements to remain motionless inside the other man.

Claws itched at the tips of his fingers and he so badly wanted to let go, show the Grimm who he was, face the other hunter, feel his power as they both let go and just were themselves.

No barriers.

No lies.

Just… them…

Nick’s fingers buried in the mattress and his muscles trembled. His forehead rested against the blankets and he was fighting for control, too.

It was an amazing sight.

Renard placed a kiss between the sweaty shoulder blades.

Turning his lover onto his back, he quickly re-entered the pliant form before Nick’s cry of protest had even left his lips. He wanted to see the handsome face in climax, wanted to swallow his cries, wanted to be with him, closer than ever.

And he knew he had reached his limit. The sight of Nick was intoxicating, making him feverish with need.

Starting to move again, his thrusts never became rough. They became more intense, as if each one had an individual meaning, a special feeling, and to him, they had. Nick pushed back, harder every time, until Renard lost the last strand of control. 

The primal side roared in triumph.

It didn’t take him much more than three thrusts and the tidal wave hit him.

Nick arched underneath him, screaming almost soundlessly, a harsh whimper ending it. Renard growled as he came, latching onto the pale skin. There was a moment of hesitation, then his fangs sank into the soft skin and he felt Nick’s shudder, his groan, tight muscles clenching around him. Sean felt arms come up loosely around his back. 

He heard his own harsh breathing, his heartbeat thundering in his ears, and Nick’s breath gusted against his shoulder and neck. The taste of the Grimm’s blood on his lips was sending tingles through him. He felt the connection between them completely realign itself, perfect once more, as it should have been, and the last vestiges of doubt fled.

He had no idea how long they stayed like this, but Nick suddenly started to shiver slightly and Renard raised his head, looking into the dazed, sated gray eyes.

“Cold?”

A smile curved the thoroughly kissed lips. “With you on top of me? Never.”

“We should clean up.”

“If you want to move…”

He didn’t. He really didn’t. But the sticky mess between them wouldn’t go away on its own. Reluctantly and after several minutes of contemplating the pros and cons of just staying, he did move. Nick gave a soft mumble of protest when the other man moved out of him. He walked over to the bathroom, wet a cloth and lovingly cleaned the dark-haired man lying like a limp weight on the bed. Nick grabbed his wrist and tugged. As Renard leaned closer, he was kissed gently. He threw the cloth in the general direction of the bathroom and climbed into the bed again, pulling the blanket over their sated forms. 

Renard had never felt better in his life. Never more happy.

And the bond hummed softly in the back of his mind.

* * *

He woke alone.

Renard returned to the land of the conscious and rolled around to one side, arm flung out – only to encounter… nothing. The spot at his side was empty. He opened his eyes and something inside of him clenched painfully at the sight. 

Nick was gone. He was alone in bed and there was no one else.

Drawing a deep breath, he tried to calm himself. According to his watch, it was still quite early in the morning, just past five. Outside the world was dark and damp, the rain coming down in a faint drizzle. Forecasts were for more rain and thunder shower warnings.

Nick had simply left. 

He cursed silently. But why? He had thought they had resolved their problem. At least as much as they could, given the root of it all: his lies.

Renard sat up and ran a hand through his hair. His clothes looked slept in – no wonder – and his eyes felt gritty. He felt gritty, come to think of it. Like he really did need more sleep, but right now that was the last thing on his mind. He didn’t believe that Nick had play-acted again last night. There was no way he had returned to Renard out of some false loyalty. He was a strong, independent man, a Grimm, an officer of the law. Nothing held him in Portland. He could just leave.

Like he had apparently done.

After the most breathtaking renewal of their physical relationship. After laying together, holding the other, exchanging caresses. It had been the most calming and soothing and, well, yes, Zen experience of his life. The connection had been back and it had thrummed with life, chasing away the pain.

“Hey.”

The voice snapped him out of his morose thoughts and Renard’s eyes widened as he discovered Nick. A towel was slung low around the slender hips and the hair looked still damp from the shower he had apparently taken.

He hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t been aware of the other man in his bathroom. It showed Renard just how bad things had been, how much of his senses he had lost. The bond hadn’t felt torn, just… Well, he hadn’t thought about it to hunt for his mate. Not after the insane realization that Nick had been gone.

“Nick?” he asked. 

A frown crossed the handsome face. “You okay?”

“I thought…” He shook his head, fighting for composure.

But his shields were blown, his façade wavering badly, and all Renard wanted was to never let go of what he had found once again.

The Grimm walked over to him, movements lithe and powerful and so intense, it took Renard’s breath away. He wanted this man, his mate, by his side. 

“You thought I had left,” Nick finished the sentence.

Renard gazed into the gray eyes. “Yes,” was all he managed.

“And why would I do that?”

“After what I did and what I didn’t say, I can’t blame you.”

Nick shook his head in faint exasperation and leaned down to brush a kiss over his lips. Renard’s hands automatically came up to rest on the towel-clad hips. He ran his fingers across the material, up the thighs to the hips, down the curve of the buttocks, and he felt his mate react. He wanted this man, but the voice of warning was still strong. 

He let himself sink back, pulling the other man with him. Nick followed willingly and his fingers worked under Renard’s rumpled tee and played over his skin, finding the right spots to tease. The towel was suddenly gone and having the man naked on top of him had the regnant feel a new kind of appreciation. 

“Nick…”

He was silenced by a hungry kiss that relayed the same need he felt. Last night had been about the hunger; they had both been in need of closure, of answers to questions, and of acceptance of the other. Sean had accepted Nick as what he was, fully, wholly, and he would honor his promise.

No more lies, even if the truth hurt.

 

They lay together in the hazy aftermath, Renard holding his mate as Nick was breathing hard, his head pressed against the regnant’s bare chest. Sean ran his fingers through the sweaty hair, smiling as the Grimm nuzzled his chest with a contented sigh.

"Shower," he mumbled.

"You are insatiable."

Nick chuckled. "I was merely suggesting a shower, but if you have other ideas… your highness?"

Renard smiled, amused by the address, and looked at him, a sly expression in his eyes. "You up to it, Grimm?"

"Depends on what 'it' is in your dictionary."

The taller man laughed. “My current dictionary is rather limited and all it contains are words that should be censored.”

Nick pulled him into a kiss, devouring him. “Then let’s cool you off,” he breathed.

He nimbly slipped out of bed and Renard swallowed a groan as he watched his naked mate walk over to the shower. Yes, he had fallen deeply, the lust was burning bright and hot, and currently, it governed his thinking. 

Whatever Nick wanted, he would give him. He would answer all his questions, he wouldn’t let the bond break ever again. He needed this.

Not just the sex. That was hot and heavy and steamy and just the right side of possessive. No, he needed the whole package; everything the Grimm gave him.

He quickly followed Nick, catching him in the doorway and pinning him against the wall. Gray flared, hunger mixed with the Grimm warning him just a little, and Renard wanted it all. He wanted to walk the line with this man, wanted to test the boundaries, wanted to see him come undone, wanted to have him restrain the creature inside of him, wanted him to balance out the emotional flares. He wanted it all.

He pressed their bodies together, reveling in the feel and the sound of his mate. 

“I want you,” he whispered, voice a bit rough.

“You’ve got me.”

It was a promise and a pledge of allegiance and everything wrapped up in four simple words.

 _Mine_ , the primal side crooned. _Mine, mine, mine._

Gray eyes regarded him openly, reflecting the truth, tinged with renewed want.

“You’ve got me,” Nick repeated.

 

tbc...


	12. Chapter 12

“Thank god!” Monroe exclaimed the moment he laid eyes on Nick.

The Grimm cocked his head, a quizzical expression in his eyes, as he stood on the porch of Monroe’s house. Dressed in habitual jeans, a leather jacket and dark blue tee underneath, Nick looked like he had just come off a case. His gun was still strapped to his hip and the police shield clipped to his belt.

“What?” he asked.

The blutbad grinned at him, ushering him inside.

“You and Renard. Good for you. You finally resolved your… issues.”

Nick blinked, then a light blush worked its way up his neck. “Oh.”

Monroe tapped his nose. “Yes, oh. Can’t fool the nose.”

Even after a day at work. The scent of the regnant on Nick was strong, a recent claiming, and it appeased something inside Monroe to know that his best friend had finally given in and done the right thing. There was only so much punishment both had been able to take. It had been a painful time for all, even Monroe, who hated to sit between two lines and try to play peacemaker.

Nick ducked his head a little. “Yeah, well…”

“Good for you, man! And good for me. I was sick and tired of you two prowling around each other, afraid to finally give in. Breaking a bond isn’t easy and it wasn’t done on both sides.” Monroe shook his head. “I don’t know who the bigger idiot was, you or Renard.”

“I think we’re still vying for first place.”

“You think?” 

Monroe opened the fridge and took out two bottles of the expensive microbrew he favored and which Nick had come to like. He pushed a bottle into Nick’s hands.

“So? No more sleepovers, right? This isn’t a one time thing?” He sounded almost panicky at the thought. “You’re back together?”

Nick chuckled and took a swallow. “No. We’re good. Really good.”

Monroe tapped his nose again, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. Inside he was sighing with deep relief.

Nick chuckled. Then he grew serious, looking at the other man. “Thanks for your help, Monroe. It’s appreciated.”

“Hey, you’re my best friend. And how sad is that for a blutbad to say? Best friends with a Grimm. Anyway, you’re my friend. My best friend. And it’s what friends do.”

Nick smiled softly. “Yeah. You’ve done a lot to help me. You didn’t have to get involved in our… personal life.”

“Are you kidding me, dude? I’ve been involved in this right from the start.” Monroe snorted and shook his head. “Because you were a tenacious little Grimm who wouldn’t leave me alone. Who had no idea about the world out there. Someone had to educate you. And tell you not to hug all the creatures out there!”

“I don’t hug!”

Monroe gave him the evil eye. “You’re still too innocent. Some of those things out there want to eat you, man!”

“Like you?”

“Like other blutbaden. Anyway… I should open up counseling hotline. Grimms welcome.”

“And you’d be good at it.”

Monroe’s chest swelled a little and he grinned widely. “I would, you can count on that! Cheers!”

Their beer bottles clinked together.

“So… movie?” Nick asked hopefully.

“I guess that means either I cook or you threaten me with take-out?”

“You liked the veggie pizza!”

“It was soggy, dude!”

“You ate it all, Monroe.”

“Because I paid for it and I’m not throwing away food.”

Nick grinned and took out his cell. “Chinese? Thai? Greek?”

“Vegetarian Greek?”

“Chinese then. Or Italian. The spinach lasagna was great.”

Monroe’s brows lowered.

“You ate it all,” Nick reminded him almost gleefully.

“Alright, yes, Italian. Geez, you Grimms are pushy!”

Lasagna it was. And salad, as well as a bottle of very good, red wine from Monroe’s collection. Nick picked a movie and they settled down, enjoying the meal, the wine, the companionship.

Nick didn’t stay overnight. He returned to his own place for the night, not the least bit lonely even though he was alone in bed. The bond was back, a barely perceptible pressure in the back of his mind, but it was there and it was reassuring.

* * *

That Bud kept dropping by to help Nick with repairs was almost normal by now. Especially since that the Grimm had freed the eisbiber from the terror of Salvadore Butrell. Even though he had faced their opposition, some of them even thinking about turning him over to the bad guys to appease Butrell, all were by now his fans, as Monroe called it. Nick had dropped off more than one of the eisbiber fruit baskets at his friend’s house. There was only so much fruit and pie and chocolate he could stand.

Right now Bud was fiddling with the fridge, which had given up the ghost again. The original plan had been for Bud to give Nick a calculation on necessary repairs around the house, starting with the kitchen and ending with the roof. Nick was thinking about selling the house, which had originally belonged to Marie. It was too big for him, filled with too many memories, and he had spent a good amount of his free time – not that there was much of it – going through listings, looking at houses and apartments. So far he wasn’t even sure whether he wanted one or the other. 

Renard had kept silent about it all, not mentioning the possibility of Nick moving in with him. It would be a risky move at best. Not only did they have work to consider; there was also Nick’s other profession as a Grimm.

Currently Bud was muttering to himself as Nick watched.

“Uh, you need help?” he asked.

“No! No, no, I’m fine. It’s just… this model..” He gestured. “Like I said before… it’s not my friend. And I’m trying.” He gave Nick a brief, shy smile. “I’ll get the motor running again. I will.”

“It’s no big deal if you can’t,” Nick tried to calm the fretting man. “If you say it’s a bust, I’ll bite the bullet and buy a new model.”

“No!” Bud held up his hands. “No, really, I can make it work!”

“Bud… it’s not your personal failure… and I’m not going to be angry or anything. Just tell me if it’s done for.”

The eisbiber’s eyes grew large. “I can do it,” he insisted.

Nick shrugged. “Okay. I’ll just be over there,” he gestured at the living room, “working. You call, okay?”

Bud nodded and turned back to his challenge.

The rest of the house had to wait. Nick knew it would be another challenge to get the other man to accept payment for the repairs, but he was set on not accepting any kind of favors or gifts. 

 

Nick was in the middle of surfing through several property-for-sale sites, the mutterings of Bud a background noise, when the door opened and Sean stepped into the house. His brows rose in a silent question and Nick shot him a quick grin.

“Yes!” Bud suddenly called. “I knew it! I knew it wasn’t a lost cause! It’s running, Nick, it’s…”

The eisbiber had walked into the living room and stopped mid-sentence, eyes round as saucers, staring at the newcomer. His face lost all color and he stammered something, then a terrified squeak left his throat.

“Great,” Nick said, trying to act as if nothing was wrong, as if he didn’t see Bud’s reaction to Renard. “Bud, this is Sean Renard.”

“He’s…” 

Bud swallowed reflexively, eyes darting to Nick, trying to confirm that the Grimm knew and understood who and what the newcomer was. And Nick did. He knew that very well and he knew the reaction most wesen had to facing the Guardian. 

The eisbiber swallowed again, so pale Nick was afraid he would faint any moment. 

“Uh…” He stepped back. “I… should go…?”

“No, it’s okay.” 

“He’s… Do you know what he is?” the eisbiber blurted, voice rising with the last word.

“Yes. Very much.”

“You… you do? Really? Nick, he’s… And you… he…”

Yes, close to hysterics now. 

The Grimm calmly raised his hands. “It’s completely okay, Bud. Completely. Sean is my mate. I know who and what he is and we are bonded.”

Bud really looked like he was about to pass out right here and now. “M-mated? B-b-but… You’re… he’s… really?!”

Worry spread through Nick. “Bud? You okay?”

“He’s… a Guardian!” the other man close to whimpered. “They’re… legendary. And you… you are mated… and you’re a Grimm and… oh god… I didn’t know. Nick, I didn’t know! It’s… No offense, really, I didn’t… I never…”

“Bud, breathe!” Nick almost laughed, though that would have probably sent Bud off into complete hysterics. “It’s okay. Really.” 

He sent an imploring look at Renard, who was watching it all with his usual composure. There was an amused sparkle there though.

 _So not helpful!_ Nick thought sharply, wondering if it went across the connection. 

“Your highness,” Bud stuttered.

Nick had a wild moment of dread that the eisbiber would fall to his knees. He would put an end to that right away if it happened. Whatever Renard was to other wesen like Bud, no one would kneel in his house on his watch!

Renard regarded him silently, making no move, either threatening or peaceful.

“Geez, Sean, don’t scare him any more than he already is!” Nick finally blurted.

Bud winced, sending the Grimm a frightened look as if Nick’s words would rile up the powerful creature. 

“It wasn’t my intention to scare you,” Renard finally broke his silence.

Bud wrung his hands. “I’m okay. Really. Just fine. I’ll… go, if that’s okay?” Imploring eyes turned to Nick. “The fridge’s working. If there’s anything else, really, anything, just call. Any time. Night or day. I’m there. You know it. Just call. You, too, sir. Your highness. Uh… right, there were the fixer-uppers, right? Uhm, just make a list. I can work with a list..”

“Bud, stop it!”

And he stopped, frozen, almost as if in shock, wide eyes staring at Nick. The Grimm was fighting down his exasperation and annoyance, which was mostly directed at his mate anyway.

“Sir?” the eisbiber squeaked.

“It’s Nick. That’s not changing. And I’m not going to make a list for you, Bud. I want your opinion on repairs and stuff that might need fixing if I sell the house. Draw up an offer and send it to me.”

“Offer?”

“Yes, offer. I’m going to pay you.”

Again Bud’s eyes darted over to Renard, who was still watching it all without interfering.

“I couldn’t… you’re… he’s…”

Nick sighed and wondered how so much work on the eisbiber’s confidence around him had gone down the drain so fast. Of course Renard was powerful and was the highest ranking individual in Portland when it came to wesen, but Bud was about to keel over from terror. Monroe had accepted the regnant without much fuss. A bit of a freak-out for a minute or two, then a healthy dose of respect, and now they worked amiably together. Nick knew that text messages were frequently exchanged, and they were mostly about Nick himself.

Bud was… well, his reaction was extreme.

“You don’t have to give me anything or be around at my beck and call, Bud. I’m not royalty. And I’m not asking for gifts or slave labor or services that I’m not going to pay for! Neither is Renard going to ask you to do it without payment either!”

Nick shot his mate a sharp, pointed look, which was answered with an amused half-smile. “I won’t,” Renard only said; quite unhelpfully, too.

“Bud? You know I want to be a friend, not… the Grimm you guys are told about in horror stories.”

The other man blinked, then suddenly straightened his shoulders, pulling himself up to his full height. 

“It’s my honor to help you, Nick, for what you did for us. I’m proud to be your friend.” He glanced at Renard. “Uhm, Detective Burkhardt. Sir.”

“Nick is still fine. Don’t mind Sean.”

The other man’s eyes went wide as saucers. “He’s a Guardian! He’s… this is his protectorate!”

“In my house we’re all the same.”

Bud opened his mouth to protest, shooting frantic looks at Renard. Right now the hyperventilation was close to surfacing again.

“And please, tell all your friends and whoever else, I’m not asking for any more gifts. I’m your friend without them anyway. And I’m paying for services rendered. I want to hire you and anyone else you can refer to me, but not without a bill.”

Bud nodded mutely, clearly shocked.

Nick walked up to him and held out his hand. “Deal?”

The eisbiber smiled tentatively and slowly took the hand offered. “Deal. And I will. Thanks.” Again his eyes strayed to the tall, imposing figure of Renard.

Nick fixed him with a hard look. “No bowing, Bud. Not in here, my turf.”

He opened his mouth to say something, then snapped it shut when Nick just narrowed his eyes.

Bud quickly gathered his tools. “Your highness,” he blurted, darting toward the kitchen exit.

Nick watched him with exasperation as Bud fled the house, then turned that look on Renard. His mate closed the distance and wrapped an arm around the Grimm’s waist, pulling him into a kiss. Nick responded without hesitation, though the amused sparkle didn’t leave.

“You weren’t helping!” he snapped when they separated.

“I didn’t say more than a few words.”

“Which were quite enough! Your vibes must be terrible,” Nick growled.

“My vibes?” An elegant eyebrow rose.

“You were bragging. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were blasting your true nature all over the house, Sean! I was expecting Bud to faint. If you had dropped the façade I’d probably have had to resuscitate the poor guy!”

“You didn’t tell them.”

It was a statement, matter-of-fact, and brows rose. Nick shrugged.

“No. It wasn’t important. And you see what the result is. I’m probably getting buried in gift baskets and stuff again!” He sighed. “Damn! Not even Monroe wants to take them off my hands anymore!”

“Gifts?” Renard asked, laughter clear in his voice.

Nick rolled his eyes. “Don’t ask. I’ll start boxing them up and sending them to you!” he threatened.

The regnant placed a kiss against one temple. “You do that.”

“There’s only so much pie a man can eat.”

“I like pie.”

“You would. I also have a wardrobe full of quilts and crocheted afghans and knitted blankets. If I ever lose power in mid-winter, I’m prepared. You don’t want to know about the collection of jams and honeys. You really don’t. And I won’t mention the other baked goods either.”  
Sean smiled. Nick’s fingers slid underneath the suit jacket to play over the thin material of the dress shirt. 

“Any reason why you dropped by and scared my fridge repair guy?” he asked.

“I was in the neighborhood.”

“Uh-huh. Try again.”

Another kiss, this time trailing down Nick’s other temple. Another, between the eyes. The next, at the corner of his mouth. And finally finding his lips.

Nick responded to the gentle, soft expression of affection, and he drew Sean closer, exploring the other man’s mouth, letting him do the same, and while it was hot, it wasn’t followed by the immediate surge of lustwantneed. It was… so much more and so much stronger than the basic emotions.

“I see,” the Grimm murmured when they parted, gazing into the green eyes that reflected a lot more than Renard probably wanted.

“You got plans?” Sean asked.

“Hm, actually yeah. Training with Monroe.” He gave his mate an apologetic look.

Renard smiled. “Good plan.” There was no disappointment or anger or sarcasm. 

Nick nipped at the slightly red lips. “Want to come along?”

“And do what?”

“Train?”

He chuckled. “I don’t think so.”

“Scared?” Nick teased.

That got a flare of indignation. Nick chuckled and kissed him again, then drew back.

“I’ll be back tonight.”

Renard tilted his head, gazing at him, thoughtful. 

“Your place,” Nick promised, answering an unspoken question.

“I’ll see you then,” the regnant said.

 

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

Nick returned at two in the morning, bruised and battered and still running on adrenaline. Playing Hide and Seek with Monroe was completely not what it said in the rule book. Even with wolfsbane and a healthy dose of expectation, the blutbad had been able to get the drop on him twice.

At the end of January, with frosted grounds, at night, it hadn’t been as much fun as it might have sounded. Then again, nothing about prowling through the wintery woodlands was fun, now that Nick thought about it. But he couldn’t choose when to train since the bad guys also didn’t simply ignore the weather. Still, it was damn painful to crash onto frozen ground.

“You really need to let go, dude,” Monroe had told him the second time, pulling the slightly winded Grimm to his feet. “Stop thinking cop and start thinking Big Bad Wolf Out There to Kill And Maim!”

So he had.

And it had been like turning a key, opening a lid of darkness and power and awareness. His instincts, always good in the past, had opened and flared and taken in everything that was around him. Like before, only in a much large dosage, he had suddenly been there. Completely. 

Nick had had spread metaphorical wings, like dark shadows, enveloping him, freeing him, taking with it the hesitation and making way for the true core of the Grimm to fly.

Monroe’s expression had been one of approval and shared joy.

They had gone from Where’s Monroe to shooting targets and trying out all kinds of weaponry Nick kept finding in the trailer. Each time he adjusted quickly, instinctual knowledge coming forth, letting him know what to do, how to move. It was a dangerous balancing act. If he gave in, the predator took over and there was no telling how far he might go. If he reined it all in, he would never know his true potential.

They called it quits after a while and Nick walked back to the car, Monroe in tow. The blutbad was still excited about the whole Grimm stuff Nick kept unearthing and Nick promised him another go at the trailer’s collection of history, lore and gore.

“You’re so easy,” he teased.

Monroe gave him an offended look. A retort was on his hips when the blutbad suddenly tensed and held up a hand. Nick froze, almost simultaneously feeling the tell-tale tingle of something. 

All senses alert, the Grimm scanned the dark woods. Monroe had cocked his head, the eyes showing flecks of red. And then he heard it. It was a barely perceptible noise, so soft that he nearly missed it. 

He tensed, listening hard. The sound didn't return. Carefully he moved on, muscles coiled to the snapping point, senses tuned to the slightest noise out of the ordinary. The murky darkness around him didn't reveal anything.

Suddenly something slammed into his side. He was flung to the right and barely managed to roll around before something struck the ground where he had just been. 

Sharp claws came at him and Nick jumped back, hitting the ground in a defensive crouch, then quickly back-flipped as his attacker came at him, claws swiping where he had just been. He didn’t think, just reacted, let his muscles work, let his mind blank on human thinking. 

Gray eyes the color of steel met faintly glowing ones.

Sean nodded his approval of the fast-paced maneuver, but Nick didn’t feel very much reassured. He had just about evaded the sharp claws, though he doubted his mate would slice him apart.

He tried to get out of the way when Renard moved lightning fast toward him, but was hit by another blow, which left him half lying, half sitting on the ground. The Grimm snarled in anger and the leash was off, gray eyes flaring, muscles awash in strength and power, ready to anything.

Speed was his asset. Speed was what he needed.

Part of him wondered where Monroe was, but the much larger part focused his attention on the immediate situation.

They circled each other, feigning attacks, going back and forth, both coming close, both evading and dodging, and Nick added a few good hits to his score.

Getting a hold of a clawed hand coming at him, he wrapped his fingers tightly around Renard’s wrist, pushing it away from him. He was caught in a strong body grip instead.

Shit! 

He was still holding Renard’s left wrist, but the right arm was strong and unmovable.

“Never come that close to a larger opponent,” the regnant rumbled. “It’s a mistake that might cost you.”

“You don’t say,” Nick breathed and resorted to underhanded and sneaky.

He pushed hard with his legs and fell back, taking the surprised man with him. Sean’s eyes briefly widened, then he was flipped over Nick in a maneuver that would have made generations of Grimms proud. 

Nick rolled aside and came to his feet, looking for a weapon. He saw something not far away and made a dash for it. It was a staff/blade/something studded with more pointy bits. He had taken it from the trailer to get a hang of it, since the weapon was nearly as long as he was tall.

His opponent wasn't really impressed. 

Nick made sure that he would leave an impression of some kind, and he scored more than one hit.

Eyes glowed brightly in the dark.

Blows rained, each party receiving and delivering hits, and when sharp claws ripped his shirt, Nick bit back a curse.

Of course his mate taught Nick something with each move, corrected his stance, allowed him to get very close, just to catch him again. 

Ducking, blocking, returning blows, Nick was amazed at how much Renard could take and not even falter. Sure, they weren’t on lethal terms, but still… 

Wow.

Just wow.

It stung to be toyed with. Because of Renard had wanted to, he would have taken out the other man in a stride. Then again, if Nick really wanted to, he could use the psychic connection and deliver a blow that would most likely stun the other man long enough for Nick to end this.

But that was out of the question.

His guard down for a second, Nick was struck by a powerful kick and went flying, but he was right back on his feet, only to have talons nearly take more fabric out of his tee. With a curse he lost his balance and slammed back onto the ground. 

His second attempt to get up was thwarted by Renard pinning him down, knee pushing into his abdomen, hands trapping Nick’s wrists effectively on the ground.

Eyes, purely gold now, no green remaining, glowed down at him. 

"That," the regnant whispered, "was a mistake."

He grimaced. "Yeah. Figured that."

"And it wasn't your first," Renard continued. "You were careless, unprepared."

"I was prepared!" Nick protested.

"You weren't. Expect the unexpected. Even your blutbad friend caught me too late.”

“Hey, that was unfair!” Monroe could be heard protesting. 

Sean Renard chuckled, glancing at their spectator. Monroe was not far away, looking fascinated and impressed and just a little bit put off by the comment.

“You can blend in with the forest. You smell like the forest!” Monroe complained.

Sean released his mate’s wrist and got up, offering a hand to pull the smaller man to his feet.

Nick dusted himself off. Well, he might have lost, but at least he had inflicted some damage. Sean would have some nice bruises by tomorrow. His mate was good; really good. Damn good and fast and he had probably not even used all his cunning and skill in the surprise attack. But Nick was agile and he learned fast. As long as he didn't let Renard get a grip on him, he had a chance. 

"At least you didn't get me the first time," he muttered.

Sean’s amusement grew. "I gave you a chance."

Nick grimaced. "How very kind of you." He wiped sweat off his face. "I need a shower."

Monroe had ambled over to them, still a bit miffed, but his excitement at witnessing the fight made more than up for it.

“I thought you didn’t want to come,” Nick remarked, stowing away the scattered weapons.

“Surprise.”

It got him a glare. 

“If you had listened to yourself, I wouldn’t have been able to get you like that,” Sean added.

Yes, there had been the brief warning, and probably before that something else as well. But Nick hadn’t been expecting anything.

He would have to change that.

“I’m not going to develop paranoia,” he grumbled. “Jumping at shadows.”

“Only the one that want to eat you,” Monroe told him with a smirk. 

“Oh, shut up.”

They made their way back through the dark forest, Renard easily able to see, just like Monroe, and Nick simply followed instinct and his guides.

Monroe got into his yellow bug and drove off with a wave. Nick closed the lid on the trunk, all weapons safely put away. He would have to go out to the trailer and leave some of them there. He didn’t really want Hank to discover the medievalish stuff in his car.

“You walked here?” he asked his mate since there was no car.

“It was a nice night for a stroll.”

Nick chuckled. “Yeah, right, sure.”

Renard was suddenly there, crowding him against the car, hands brushing over the bruises, quite aware where he had struck. Nick fisted his hands into the dark t-shirt and pulled him down into a kiss, adrenaline and the Grimm still roaring through him. And it was a hard kiss, quite clearly telling the story.

There was power behind that kiss, and longing, and yearning, and need, and so much more that it had him falling. Electric wasn’t a word for what he felt.

Sean looked into the gray eyes, his own holding a faint ring of gold.

Nick knew that if he gave in, it would happen right here and now. His fingers curled tighter into the dark fabric, holding his mate close, claiming another kiss, delivering a bite to the lips that had Renard hitch a breath.

And damnit all to hell! Nick didn’t care about the time of night or the place. He didn’t care about anything but them right now.

By the increasingly hungry kiss, the hands trying to get him out of his clothes, Sean shared his thoughts.

 

It was the first time Nick had sex against the car, in the middle of the forest, pants around his ankles, with his mate giving him the blowjob of a lifetime. He might have given an undignified whimper when Sean’s hand touched the hard evidence of his need, pulled him out and started to explore. A tongue was added to the exploration, and lips and teeth and pressure and suction, and Nick could only feel and make encouraging noises and moan in more need.

His fingers in Renard’s hair had to be pulling out the short strands at the roots the way he was clenching them into the scalp, and he barely managed to swallow the scream that escaped when deft fingers slid into him to push him over the edge. He curled forward, wanting more, needing more, feeling too sensitive, feeling too little, wanting Sean to stop, to continue, and the playful fingers were driving him insane.

Spent, shuddering, groaning in protest as his dick was still sucked at like the world’s tastiest lollipop, Nick wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor.

Renard didn’t let him. 

Actually, those calculating eyes, that devious expression, told Nick he wasn’t done.

Not by a long shot.

 

So at two in the morning, bruised and battered and riding on that high of fighting and sex, Nick walked into his home, aware that he was featuring a stupid grin. 

The bond hummed in the back, echoing his emotions.

He fell into bed, sated, tired, aware that he has to be up and about in five hours, but right now he couldn’t care less. And it’s just reports.

He could do reports with half a brain asleep. Hank always claimed Nick did so anyway.

 

tbc...


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this has grown... a lot... I have no explanation for it. About three chapters ago I had thought it was done. Then more braincell explosions happened. Now I'm carefully guessing two or three more chapters till this monster is finally finished. Very careful guessing here!
> 
> Hope you all still enjoy yourselves :)

The bruises had bloomed the next morning and Nick sighed, wincing a little when some of them pulled in an uncomfortable way. He made it through paper work and bantered back and forth with Hank and Wu when the sergeant dropped by. They had a court appearance later that day, but it was a quick thing and both men called it a day. 

Nick did his weekly grocery shopping, added some of the items Monroe favored, and dropped that bag off at his friend’s home. While he mooched off Monroe now and then, mostly coffee and beer, he did repay him. Monroe grumbled about it, as usual, but he smiled when he discovered the goodies, including the – in Nick’s opinion -- hideously overpriced beer.

It came as no surprise that Sean was at his home, waiting patiently on the porch. It looked ridiculous, the tall, well-dressed man in his dark winter coat and red scarf, complete with leather gloves, sitting there. There was a paper bag next to him and Nick had to smile when he saw the logo. It was from a small coffee shop that made the best brownies and muffins Nick had ever tasted. 

“I gave you a key,” he called. “For a reason. Please don’t tell me you lost it.”

“I didn’t.” Renard rose fluidly, bag in hand.

“So why are you here?”

“I considered it rude to presume.”

 _Rude to what?!_ Nick stared at him, felt the echoes of the bond and shook his head. “You live as much at my place as I do at yours, Sean! You’re always welcome to just walk inside when I’m not there. Nothing has changed. At least I thought nothing has…”

“A lot has changed, Nick.”

He frowned. “Not that.”

When the door closed after them did Nick give in to the temptation to kiss the taller man. Renard’s hands were gentle, exploring, as they caressed him, mapping out his bruises. Of course he knew where they were; it was one of those weird abilities.

“I want you here,” Nick told the other man when they separated. “Always.”

Shadows chased each other through the green eyes, giving Nick an idea just how much the past weeks had hurt Renard. The psychic connection was back, but the regnant was still rather careful when it came to certain things. Like simply walking into Nick’s home without the other man being there.

Nick kissed him again, with a lot more force, trying to apologize, to chase away the shadows and the guilt.

Renard’s hand came to rest over Nick’s ribs, warm and heavy against the bruise he had there. Nick had seen it in the mirror this morning. It was big and ugly and painful.

“You have grown so much,” Sean murmured and brushed a gentle kiss over Nick’s forehead. 

“You still kicked my ass.”

“You didn’t use every weapon at your disposal.”

Nick froze and pushed him back, gray eyes ablaze. Renard watched him, expression quizzical.

“Don’t even joke about it,” the Grimm said coldly. “And never mention it again!”

“Nick…”

“It’s not a weapon!”

“It could be.”

“No!”

The regnant closed the distance again. His touch was tender as he caressed Nick’s cheek.

“Training all your abilities is important.”

“This is something between us, Sean. Only us. It’s nothing I could use in a fight against a lowen or a skalengeck or whatever. And I draw the line at using the bond as a weapon.”

Renard inclined his head in acceptance. “Then I will always beat you, Grimm.”

Nick snorted. “We’ll see.”

A kiss was brushed over his lips and Nick pulled the other man flush against him, enjoying the moment, though his body protested. He ached everywhere.

“You need to recover,” Renard rumbled.

“I’m fine. Had worse.”

“Hm, I know.”

Nick smiled. “And I heal fast.”

“That I know, too.”

They ended up on the couch, watching a movie, having take-out and eating lot of unhealthy food, including the muffins and brownies Renard had brought along. 

Anyone who knew Sean Renard would never have pictured the normally so imposing and well-dressed captain to lounge in black sweat pants, a black t-shirt, barefooted, eating chips out of a super-size bag. Not that the calories would make any difference. He burned up excess pretty fast. 

Nick was dozing when the credits ran and he grumbled when Renard push-shoved him into the bedroom.

But he followed.

And he slept another eight hours, his body needing the recovery time.

* * *

Life fell into place again. Slowly, not with a bang, the bond a warm constant between him and Renard. He still had to prod his mate sometimes, mostly until it really hurt, to get him to open up immediately, to involve the Grimm. 

It worked.

With hiccups.

Nick called Frank Rabe a few more times, asking for clarification on some matters, getting a better understanding each and every time. He had come to realize what Renard’s position really meant; not just power, but responsibility for more than a few wesen and their families. He was juggling duties, he was running territory that was larger than just Portland, and he had a cover to uphold: that of a police captain. He was mayor and king and sole leader and whatnot in one. 

It was more than Nick had to deal with, being just a detective and a Grimm. It was a lot more and each decision wasn’t done lightly. 

Aunt Marie’s proposal for the deal to end her life hadn’t been considered lightly.

Yes, he understood that now.

And he honored her sacrifice, her decision and the heritage he had received. 

Work was still the no-fly zone, so to speak. Renard treated him as usual, Nick was simply a detective, and their lives together were spent completely anonymously, away from prying eyes.

Maybe Hank suspected something; he dropped hints as to Nick’s love life once in a while. But Nick didn’t fall for the traps and simply countered with teasing his older partner about his latest female interest.

Nick kept training with Monroe, the blutbad only too happy and eager to try out all the different weapons in the trailer. He liked watching Nick wield them, commenting on his moves, his stance, his speed. Nick knew he was improving and he was getting a hang of things.

Renard continued to train with him, too. In his own way. And not always as an ambush. Nick enjoyed those sessions, too, not just because some of them ended very enjoyably. It wasn’t always about sex. It was about learning more about his mate, getting to know him in a new way, and seeing Sean fight was amazing. It was truly breathtaking.

Sean Renard was breathtaking. Seeing him lose himself in his true nature, become what he was, let go and just… be… Nick had to smile at the sight and he knew it was a very sappy, silly smile.

Picking up on the emotions, the regnant cocked his head, feeling along the bond. Nick just shrugged, shields down, letting his mate feel what he felt. The other man’s expression was priceless as he couldn’t contain his reaction, as the gentler emotions broke through. Composure went out the window lightning fast and Nick smiled more.

Then he swung at Renard with a roundhouse kick and the regnant went flying. The stunned wheeze that followed that maneuver turned into a laugh. Sean was on his feet, none the worse for wear, easily able to take such a blow, and grinned.

“Congratulations, Grimm.”

“Trained by the best,” was the cheeky reply.

He would never hurt his mate through their psychic link, but he would use it now and then to get the upper hand.

The next move was Renard’s and it was a fast, hard kiss that had Nick want more, but he stopped himself from launching a new, very different attack.

Sean grinned knowingly.

Yep, training was fun. A lot of fun.

And now he knew how to involve the bond to a degree that could handicap the regnant, but not cripple him, and it had very… interesting results.

Nick planned to make good use of it. Not just for the fun of it but also because it was yet another unknown factor that was evolving more and more. It was both a strong point and a weak spot, and he had to handle himself here as well.

Being a Grimm was never dull and the learning never stopped.

Renard looked down at him, eyes filled with knowing and understanding. His hands were running over Nick’s ribs, his back, calming and centering. His lips brushed over one temple.

“You are not my weakness,” he murmured, apparently getting very good at picking up such things. “You are my strength.”

Nick let the soothing caress blank his mind, let it whisper across the connection, and he knew how much he was the other man’s balance and stability, but he also realized that a mate was a dangerous weapon for anyone to use. 

He had no intention to be caught off guard easily.

He had no intention to let him get hurt.

Ever.

* * *

It was at the beginning of February that she called. Renard had been mostly out of contact with his older sister due to so many responsibilities crowding up on him, so much that had moved back on his list of priorities while he dealt with the broken bond and, as a result, regaining Nick’s trust. Simply because they were physically back together and the bond was healthy once more didn’t mean he could just lean back and let things happen.

He trusted Nick. He always had. And he involved his mate. He explained things, went over past cases to give Nick an insight into what had been going on behind the scenes. Take the Lowen Games. Nick didn’t have to like the truth behind it, but he finally understood that the gladiator-like games hadn’t just been an old tradition recently revived; it had been the regnant’s way of dealing with the unsavory characters of his protectorate.

Nick learned that human morals and ethics didn’t always apply to wesen matters, and that his mate was primarily a Guardian and only as a secondary profession also an officer of the law.

When Mireille called, Nick had gone off on a stake-out with Hank and Renard was working through a stack of mails on his laptop. He checked the called id and sighed when realized it was her.

“Mireille,” he greeted her neutrally.

“Sean!” She sounded as cheerful as always. “Am I calling at an inopportune time?”

“Yes. I’m working.”

“You’re always working.”

“What do you want, Mireille?”

“Oh, you are in a dapper mood, brother,” she teased. “This is simply a social call. I wanted to know how you and Nick are doing.”

“Fine.”

“Really?”

Renard sighed. “You talked to Nick,” he stated.

“He gave me the same lines, Sean. And of course I talked to him. We talk a lot. More than you and I, actually.”

“Miri…”

“You told him. The truth about his aunt.”

He sighed. “Nick.”

“Like I said: we talk. And I love your mate. He’s a dear. He told me what happened, what he did, and I know how painful that must have been for you and him. I’m glad things smoothed over.”

Renard leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “So you know everything. Why call me?”

“Sisterly love and worry?”

He chuckled. “Right.”

Up until the day his older brother Maurice had decided to ‘test’ the bond, had come into Sean’s territory unannounced and attacked the regnant’s mate, there had been no direct family contact. Mireille had talked to him after that. Within the six months following Maurice’s attack, Sean had had more contact with his sister than in the prior six years.

And she had met Nick, whom she had talked to through texts, emails and phone conversations before seeing him in person.

The contact had persisted. Even with Renard himself.

Yes, Nick had changed a lot for him. He had even managed to install a sense of family in wesen who weren’t known for close bonds that went outside their own mate and offspring.

“And Nick is truly getting to me,” Mireille confessed. “His idea about family and support. I simply had to call you.”

Sean smirked. “Right.”

“You are my brother, Sean. And while family is a different concept for him, I like him a lot. I’m very glad this worked out for both of you.”

“Thank you. You could have sent a mail.”

“And miss the chance for such a lovely chat? So, Sean, tell me about the last weeks...”

 

tbc...


	15. Chapter 15

The small space heater was running on high, trying to chase the cold out of the room. It wasn’t very effective, but without the little bit of heat, icicles might be forming soon.

Sitting in the trailer that looked rather cleaned up and sorted out, Nick let his eyes wander over the assorted knick-knacks that were all part and parcel of a Grimm. Nothing here was superfluous, even if it looked like someone in the props department had gone wild. Whatever his ancestors had collected in the past decades and whatever Marie had crammed into the trailer, it meant something. He might need it one day.

Except for the coins. Those he had buried somewhere else. They were gone but not forgotten. He wouldn’t go back to them for anything because their existence was poisonous.

Sean had never asked.

He would never tell him either.

Nick was under no illusion that the pull of the coins was something his mate was immune to, now that they had the bond. Their lure was there for every wesen.

No, they were better lost and forgotten.

His own sorting and labeling sessions had been haphazard at best. He had tried to find and create his own system, but there was so much. Monroe had been enthusiastic and eager to help identify assorted weapons and doodads. They had spent one very long afternoon, a very memorable, too, cleaning out a cabinet and Monroe had crooned and fawned over half the stuff Nick had piled on the desk.

He had left the blutbad to the task of getting everything labeled, smiling secretly to himself as Monroe had been lost in his own world of wesen history and Grimm lore.

Nick sank back, eyes on the ceiling as he lay on the bed – freshly made up, thank you – thoughts wandering more. He was dressed in several layers of clothes against the cold from outside. The forecasts had predicted snow by the evening.

He had never brought Renard here, though he didn’t doubt for a second that the other man knew where the trailer was. He had simply never come here uninvited and Nick had never uttered the invitation.

He felt the connection between them, strong and healthy, calm and even, and he knew Renard was still at the office. There had been a meeting with the mayor and now there was backlog. Just like Nick didn’t involve his mate in Grimm work, Sean didn’t involve him in the administrative side of the police work he did.

Nick dug out the letter that had launched so much pain for them and read over the words. It was still strange to have his dead aunt tell him she had arranged for it all, that she had almost literally signed a contract with the protectorate’s Guardian. It would probably have been even more weird to have her tell Nick that she had also arranged the bond, but that was an impossibility. The psychic connection was a positive side-effect of his Grimm abilities and Renard’s status and birth.

He folded the pages and locked them away in one of the many drawers, hidden inside yet another of the countless books. Nick switched off the space heater and the lights, then left the trailer.

It was snowing.

Lightly.

He went to his car and drove off the silent lot, heading home.

* * *

The graveyard was almost abandoned this time of day. Temperatures were freezing by now and a few flakes were already drifting down from the sky. Nick walked the path between the graves and finally left it, heading for the simple headstone that marked Marie Kessler’s grave. He stopped, gazing at the gray marker that was covered by a thin layer of white, then smiled slightly.

“Hey,” he only said and placed a white rose onto the grass in front of the stone.

Silence greeted him.

“Wish you had told me about your deal,” he continued after a moment, completely alone in this section of the graveyard. “It would have made a few things easier. Letters, especially hidden ones, don’t really help.”

He looked at the grave, then let his eyes wander. Nick had come to terms with the contract and what his mate had done. It was in the past, history, and like many said: you learn from history.

“Did you suspect I might end up being so much more than a Grimm in a regnant’s territory? I believe you knew about the whole balancing thing. In a way, now, after discovering so much, about and me and this world, I think you suspected it. Maybe you wanted it. Maybe that was part of the deal that you never mentioned to Renard either.”

Nick quirked another smile. His aunt had known he swung both ways, had found out when he had experimented in college. She had never asked, she had never said anything, just accepted his good friend Thomas at that time.

“You knew Grimms made perfect mates for a Guardian. You knew it might be a good fit with us, right? I don’t believe you sold me to him because that’s not how it works.”

He fell silent again, feeling the steady, warm presence of the psychic bond, feeling the anchor within his soul. Renard wasn’t even close, but he was here. In a way he was always there. His breath was clouding in front of his face and he felt the cold permeating his clothes. Stuffing his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, he watched the snow.

“Anyway… thanks. For everything. Before and after. You did what you thought was best for me and for everyone involved. I understand things now… many things… all those connections and relations. I think there will be so much more and that what I think is complicated now might just be child’s play in a few months. Sometimes I wish I could talk to you about it, find out how much you understood of wesen politics. I’ve got people I can pester, but you were the only Grimm I knew. You were in that business so much longer.”

Nick felt a bout of melancholy and pushed it away. He hadn’t come here to feel sad or to wallow. He had mourned his aunt and he had gone on in his life.

“If you knew this might happen, that I could be the mate of a regnant… well, thank you. If you didn’t, well, it changed my life. It changed everything. Still, thank you.”

He bowed his head and fell into silence, then finally straightened up.

“Thank you,” he repeated with a soft whisper, then turned and walked away.

* * *

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that despite his warnings to forget about the coins, Farley Kolt hadn’t. And he hadn’t left. Apparently he had been biding his time, trying to find a good approach to talk to the Grimm without getting killed. Cornering an exhausted Nick after a grueling chase and a senseless confrontation with a jagerbar – who now lay unconscious and bleeding in an alleyway – had been his plan.

Nick looked into the yellow eyes, glowing slightly in the darkness, aware that Kolt could see him clearly. He was also aware of his own abilities. Despite the steinadler’s speed, Nick had been able to hit him the last time.

Trying to calm himself, get his breathing under control, ignore the ache from where the jagerbar had barreled into him and knocked him against a dumpster, Nick regarded Kolt warily.

“I thought you had left,” he said, breaking the silence.

“You know I can’t.”

“The coins are gone.”

The expression tightened. “Where are they?”

“Like I said: gone. I didn’t hide them. I dumped them in different places. Nature took care of the rest.”

It was the truth. 

“I need them, Nick.”

“No, you don’t.”

The narrow face reflected hunger and longing, just like Renard’s had. Nick would never forget that expression in his mate’s face, the longing and hunger and mindless need. Sean had beaten the influence because of Nick; Farley didn’t have anyone like that. Maybe Marie would have been able to heal the wounds, still the hunger and thirst for the power they promised. 

But Marie Kessler was dead.

“You wanted them for Marie?” Nick asked, an idea forming in his mind.

Kolt’s lips became a thin line.

“She wouldn’t have wanted them,” he continued. “Grimms can’t be influenced by the coins. And she wouldn’t have loved you any more than she already did because of them or because of what you might achieve with their poison.”

The steinadler shook his head. “They are mine.”

“They belong to no one. If my family could have destroyed them, they would have.” 

It was one thing he had been thinking about long and hard. Why had no one ever destroyed the coins? Easy answer: because it was impossible. Whatever made them so influential on some people also made them hard to get rid of in any way.

He saw the other man move. It was incredibly fast and Nick was tired, bruised and battered, but Grimm instinct had him get out of the way just as fast.

Not fast enough for the blow Farley dealt out that caught him in his already bruised side.   
Nick doubled over and hissed, pulling his gun and aiming it from his crouched position. Kolt made a noise that was part eagle, part something else, and lunged at Nick, tackling him to the ground.

The gun went flying.

Nick’s head bounced hard and he gasped as the weight of the other man drove the air from his lungs.

Hands with eagle talons on them ripped into his jacket.

Something inside him snapped as a lance of pain shot through him and he gave in to the other side, the Grimm, the primal instinct that followed an ancient way. He reacted without thinking, he did what had to be done, and by the pain gurgle he had hit a very vulnerable spot.

Nick bucked up, using police training and gut instinct, throwing the other man half off, then rolled out of the way of another blow. 

“The coins won’t help you!” Nick yelled, stumbling back, ready for a new attack.

Kolt screeched in anger.

“You already lost Marie! The coins won’t bring her back!”

The taller man threw himself at the Grimm and Nick went down again, feeling the claws bite into his forearm. He ignored the pain and slammed his fist into Kolt’s jaw, stunning him for a second. It was enough to kick his feet into Farley’s ribs.

One possibly cracked.

But the wesen was resilient.

And Nick was, for all his abilities, only human.

He had already fought a jagerbar and it had tired him, but he wasn’t exhausted yet. And he didn’t want to give the steinadler the pleasure of killing a Grimm.

So the exchange of kicks and blows and swipes with dangerous claws against blunt human nails went on, a deadly dance that Nick knew he couldn’t win if he didn’t resort to lethal force.

“Where are my coins?” Kolt demanded, slamming Nick against the wall, his eyes holding an expression of intense need and hunger.

“I don’t have them,” Nick hissed. “Like I said, they are gone!”

The dangerous looking, sharp beak was very close now. “I need them!”

“No! No one needs them… And I’m sorry…”

Sorry for his loss. Sorry for the pain Marie had caused him when she had left her fiancé. Sorry that it had been him, Nick, who had caused their separation, even though it couldn’t have been a child’s fault. He was sorry for the addiction Farley had developed. He was sorry for what he had to do.

For a brief moment the other man looked confused, then Nick acted, giving in to the instinct to protect himself from a dangerous creature, and the next minute Kolt lay on the grimy alley floor, wheezing, holding a broken wrist. Nick let the surge wash over him, let the adrenaline course through his body, gray eyes cold and lethal, filled with a final warning.

“The coins are gone,” Nick repeated, voice deadly quiet. “And you should be gone, too, Farley. It’s my final warning.”

He bared his teeth in an angry snarl. 

“Listen to him, steinadler,” a low rumble echoed through the alley. “It’s your only warning.”

Kolt froze, halfway back to his feet already and cradling his wrist.

“Attack him again and I will call upon my right to protect what is mine,” the voice continued, deceptively soft.

“W-who?”

Eyes glowed golden in the dark and Nick saw the shift in the other man’s features as his own eyes were now yellow, bird-like, his features prominently featuring the beak and sharp angles of an eagle’s face.

Kolt gave a soft wheeze and stepped back. Realization hit him and Nick could see it flood his mind. He felt his mate’s power, felt the shields drop for a split second. 

“Your highness.”

There was a rustle in the shadows, the sound of leathery wings unfolding.

“You have been warned. The coins are no longer.”

“Do you have them?”

Nick knew it was the addict talking. It was the desperation and pain, emotions flowing free. Kolt wasn’t thinking logically and if things went completely out of control he might do something even more stupid than attacking a Grimm: he might attack a Guardian.

“No. The Grimm disposed of them on his own and I don’t know of their locations either.”

Kolt glanced at Nick. He swallowed, visibly fighting. His hands clenched and unclenched. Nick had seen his share of drug addicts, trying to appear normal and yet craving another fix, and the steinadler was just like them.

“I loved Marie,” he finally said.

“Then honor her memory. Visit her grave. Pay her your respects. And leave the coins alone.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

Nick’s posture tensed. “You’ll never get their location from me, Farley.”

The steinadler nodded, a jerk of his head. 

“Any threat against my mate will be a direct threat against me,” the Guardian’s voice whispered.

Kolt’s eyes widened briefly, then he stared at Nick. “Mate?”

“Yes.”

“You should leave now, steinadler,” came the order.

Kolt stumbled back a little, aware that the Guardian had moved closer. Nick had the same awareness of his mate, knew he was behind him, still hidden mostly in the shadows, but his sense of Sean was strong and unwavering.

Farley finally nodded again and staggered away, injured wrist held close to his chest. Nick waited until he was out of sight, until his senses told him there was no immediate danger, then he turned to look at the tall, imposing figure behind him.

“You followed me.”

“No. Your shields dropped. I knew you were up against more than the jagerbar you had been after.”

He had dropped his shields? Damnit! That had only happened a few times in the past months. Normally Nick handled confrontations better.

Sean, his features shifting back to his human façade, cocked his head. “I take it that wasn’t intentional.”

“No. He got to me.” Nick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Him and Marie… they were a couple once.”

“A Grimm and a steinadler?”

“Yeah. Back then I thought it was amazing, given that my aunt was called a nightmare and her name evoked terror. She loved him. When my parents were killed and she had to take care of me, she broke it off.”

Renard closed the distance, not yet touching, but clearly projecting shared pain.

“He loved her. He told me. He loved her a lot, and the coins… their power over him had him believe that she would come back to him if he possessed them.”

“Their influence is stronger than any will, Nick. What they do, how they enhance every little desire, is nothing you can imagine.”

The Grimm nodded, meeting the green gaze. “Probably. I feel sorry for him, for his loss, what he had to give up… She could have stayed with him. I don’t think I would have seen him as anything but her boyfriend or something. But she let go of everything.”

And he had never been able to do that. Being a Grimm shouldn’t entail the need to forget about your old life. He had tried so hard to incorporate the new with the old, and somehow it had worked. Even if getting mated to Renard hadn’t been the plan. 

Kolt… had given up on everything, had let himself get pushed away, and he had tried to use the coins to win back his love. It had backfired so, so badly.

Renard leaned in close, one hand gently coming to rest on one hip, the other carding into Nick’s tousled hair. He pressed a kiss to his grimy forehead.

“I know what he feels, Nick,” he murmured. “I wanted you. It was my addiction. You and power. Control over my protectorate. My subjects. You had to be mine. I couldn’t control myself with the coins. Neither could he.”

“You got past it.”

“Because of my mate.”

Nick caught his lips in a kiss, smiling a little. “Sweet talker.”

“It’s the truth. You helped me beat the addiction. Kolt doesn’t have anyone. His chosen mate is dead.”

Shadows crept over Nick’s features. “So he won’t ever be free.”

“No.”

He closed his eyes, let himself briefly sink into the offered, unshielded warmth that was Sean Renard. It was beautiful and something indescribable. Fantastic and powerful and still so gentle and warm and… everywhere. It was another soul, for lack of a better word, and it was part of him.

Nick pulled back reluctantly. Renard gave him a tight smile. 

“Done?” the regnant asked and nodded at the still unconscious jagerbar.

“Need to call it in, actually.”

He smiled. “Then I should be gone.”

“Thanks for dropping by,” Nick teased.

“Always.” Sean reluctantly let go. “I’ll see you later?”

“A lot later. This,” Nick gestured at his suspect, “will take a while.”

 

And it did. Long enough for it to be past midnight and Hank shooing him home to catch some sleep. They would wrap the whole thing up tomorrow.

Nick dropped into bed, already half asleep, feeling every bruise and scrape. Part of him still turned memories of what the coins had done to Sean, what they had made of Farley, over and over in his head. Renard had been lucky; the steinadler would never be. He would keep on looking, Nick was sure of it, until it would kill him.

It would, if he came back or attacked Nick in anyway. The Guardian would make sure of it.

He pushed those thoughts out of his head and let sleep overtake him.

 

tbc...


	16. Chapter 16

Renard had taken his own precautions concerning Farley Kolt. Not only had he researched the man and had come up with a few interesting facts, he had also set three hexenbiester on his tail, to keep an eye on him, to make sure he left. Nick had emotional ties to the steinadler, even if they had interacted only a few times, the last time rather violently. This was the man who had loved Nick’s aunt, who would have stayed, despite the fact that she was a Grimm. Renard had tried to imagine Nick’s life if he had had a steinadler as a mal rolemodel.

Things would have been different.

Maybe not so much, but at least a little.

Adalind had reported back an hour ago that yes, Kolt had truly left. He had checked out of his hotel and driven out of Portland. It was no guarantee that he wouldn’t return, but if he did and his presence became known to the regnant, Renard would act accordingly. Kolt was more than a persona non grata. He was on his list.

Normally he wouldn’t interfere in Grimm business; Nick had made it clear that he didn’t want it. Renard respected his mate’s wishes. But he would protect him against a wesen who was still under the influence of the coins. Kolt wouldn’t be able to shake off the effects if he didn’t fight it, if he didn’t find a reason to live again. His only reason was the coins.

Renard leaned back in his chair, feeling the distant ache of so long ago, the echo of the coins’ influence on him. It was like a bad memory, a nightmare, but so potent when he had possessed them. They had whispered such terrible, great and poisonous things to him.

He understood Kolt; in a way no one else could.

And Nick had been his salvation. He had wanted the younger man, he had craved his presence. At first because of the political power the loyalty of a Grimm would get him, but then something else had kicked in. Powerful and overruling every scheming little braincell of his: the psychic bond. The Grimm had been more than a tool; he had been his mate. Renard had fallen under a new power and it was as addictive as the coins, but far less destructive.

The steinadler didn’t have the same luxury.

Shutting down his computer, Renard rose and walked over to the windows, looking out into the night. Nick was at home, hopefully asleep, healing. As much as he would have enjoyed being with his mate, right now the Grimm needed rest. He felt the bond, faint and still so very strong, much stronger than before, and he knew everything was okay with the other man.

Tomorrow was another day. And hopefully it would give them some quiet time together.

* * *

Nick went back to the precinct to finish the case report, aware that Renard was there, as always professionally distant. Because of the professionalism he let the shields stay, tight and locked down. Hank and Nick delivered their final report, Renard asked a few pertinent questions, then it was all done.

“Lunch?” Hank asked.

“Sure. I could eat.”

And they left for Hank’s favorite burger place.

Nick felt the soft echoes of Sean’s presence and he opened up slightly, let the warmth embrace him, and he replied the same way. He knew the other man wanted him closer, wanted to chase away dark memories, needed the confirmation that even throughout all the ups and downs of the last months, culminating in the reminder of what had nearly been through Farley Kolt, nothing had changed.

Nothing at all had changed, he tried to project. Yours. And you are mine.

It got him a surge of emotions that were hard to tell apart and Nick had to close himself off again, lest he drown in them.

Later, he promised himself.

 

A new case popped up half an hour later and it was business as usual.

* * *

Nick spent the next night at Renard’s condo, letting his mate reassure himself that he was fine, that those were only bruises and a few harmless scratches.

The moment he stepped through the door, Sean was there, right there, so close, still waiting but needing the physical contact. Nick shut the door and dug his fingers into the loose, dark grey sweater, pulling the taller man to him. Strong arms wrapped themselves around him and warm lips brushed over his temple.

Nick slipped his hands underneath the sweater, felt the warm skin and hard muscles, felt the bond between them, and he dropped his shields.

Renard gave a soft whisper of a gasp, then just took his lips in a possessive kiss.

 

They simply lay together, Sean’s hands running over his skin, exploring and calming; calming mostly himself.

Kolt had scratched at old wounds for Renard. He reminded the other man what he had tried to do with the coins influencing his thinking. Nick was his, would always be his, and their bonding hadn’t been through the coins; more because of the fallout, actually.

Still…

Nick pulled his mate into an embrace, let him rest his head against Nick’s chest, eyes closed, trying to relax.

“You’ve got me,” he murmured. “Freely.”

It was all that counted for them both. They had both gone through some bad times, and again through worse, and they had weathered it all. The old memories would be dealt with as well.

Just like before.

* * *

It had been one of Nick’s hardest fights, but he had won the battle.

Kinda.

Sort of.

At least halfway.

He knew when to give up and just let things happen, though it went against everything he believed in, as well as everything he had told Bud he shouldn’t do.

Watching the eisbiber and his friends work on his house was… a sight to behold, actually. Nick wasn’t blessed with two left hands when it came to repairs, but the things that had accumulated over the years, while small, were more than he would have been able to handle in the amount of time.

The decision to sell his aunt’s house had been a hard one. He had fought with himself, with memories and duty and the fact that it was the almost only normal piece of her inheritance he had left. He hadn’t discussed the matter with Renard, had simply mulled it over and over in his head. Sean was only indirectly involved in the decision. It wasn’t his house. It wasn’t his to keep or sell.

The house was too large, for one. A family of four could easily fit in here, including a family dog or two. The garden was wonderful, but Nick couldn’t upkeep it. His aunt had paid off all debts, it was mortgage free, and still…

Too much. Too large. Too… many memories. Good ones and bad ones.

At first Bud had come over to take a look at the most dire repairs, like leaking faucets and the thermostat. Nick helped the other man, despite the eisbiber’s protests that he was very well able to handle these menial things.

Then Frank Rabe had come over with an estate agent he knew pretty well. Victoria Snyder looked faintly familiar. Only when she told him she was Mason Snyder’s cousin did thinks click together.

“I’m sorry about your loss,” Nick told the woman earnestly.

She nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

And that was that. No more was spoken about the senseless murder.

Victoria took a look around the house, made notes, asked a million questions, not the least daunted by the fact the Nick was a Grimm and she was a lausenschlange.

“You can trust her,” Frank had told him, face open, serious. “She knows what she’s getting into. She knows who and what you are, that you are… a friend.”

That small smile the jagerbar had given him had lifted something heavy from Nick that he hadn’t been aware of before.

With a list of necessary repairs in hand, which would get Nick a much better price and would sell the house almost immediately, he had called upon Bud’s help.

And now the house was teeming with eisbiber. Nick watched them, astounded by the response Bud had created, by how quickly they worked, how smoothly things went. Bud gave him a wide, proud smile.

“We’ll get everything done in time.”

“There’s no fixed date,” Nick told him, something he had repeated what felt like a million times.

“Do you need help moving?”

“Uh, I haven’t really started to pack yet…”

“Just call,” Bud told him and went over to where one of his guys, family, friends, whatever was looking at some warped floor boards.

From upstairs two men with ladders descended, nodding at Nick. They had been busy with coating the walls in a fresh layer of paint.

“Wow,” Nick murmured and walked outside, inhaling the crisp air.

Things were moving; as would he one day. Out of the home he had grown up in.

It felt strange in a way, but it was also something he wanted to do. A next step in his own growth as a Grimm, as a regnant’s mate, and as Nick Burkhardt.

*

It took the eisbiber four days to finish everything. The house looked like new. There was nothing left to work on and Nick steeled himself for the argument that would come next: the bill.

Of course it came.

And Nick fought tooth and nail to pay the men and women who had spent four whole days working so hard.

Bud called it a returned favor.

Nick called it slave work, which had the eisbiber wince.

“Listen, Bud,” the Grimm said, praying for patience. “I have a list of the things you did. I have a rough estimate from an estate agent what this might cost. I can get your bank information and just transfer the money if you don’t write up a bill. You are getting paid for it, one way or the other. Don’t make this harder than it is!”

Bud looked almost desperate. “Nick, this is our gift for you! You did so much for us…”

“And I’m not keeping tabs! Nor do I want favors! You are my friends and you worked hard and it’s not something I want for free!”

Because having wesen indebted to him didn’t sit well with Nick. It felt completely wrong to use his status as a Grimm, and seeing that Bud had been scared shitless of him just months before, it was doubly wrong.

“Bud, please…”

The eisbiber resolutely shook his head.

“Is this about trying to stay on my good side?” Nick asked. “Because if it is, you don’t have to do any of this! You’re my friend. What I did I would have done as a police officer, too!”

“You did it as a Grimm,” Bud pointed out. “You’re a cop and you’re a Grimm. We know how lucky we are to have you as you are, Nick. You could be a cop and a Grimm who kicks our asses from here to hell. Or whacks off our heads.”

Nick’s stance tensed. “I’m not…”

“No, you’re not,” Bud interrupted with a lot more backbone than months ago, face decisive. “You’re our friend. We help each other.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is this because of Sean?”

Bud blinked. “What?”

“Because I’m a regnant’s mate?”

“No! Of course not!”

Nick ran a hand through his hair. “Bud…”

“Don’t be stupid, Nick. We helped you as a friend. Everything else, you’re that, too, and it makes you a very awesome friend, but all of us know you didn’t bully or threaten us into this. Everyone came freely. Some couldn’t make it and some only for a day or two. We did this for Nick Burkhardt, not whoever or whatever else you are.”

And Nick was left standing, bewildered, with a hint of anger, a good dose of resignation, and the still present decision to hunt down Bud’s account number, watching the eisbiber drive off.

 

tbc...


	17. Chapter 17

Renard was no big help when he came by that evening, looking around the house, nodding in appreciation.

“Good work.”

“Free work!” Nick snapped. “Something I didn’t want!”

“As I understand,” the other man said, turning back to his mate, “they did it as a favor, not because you threatened them or they feel obligated.”

Nick glared at him. “You might be used to this, but I’m not!”

Sean smiled slightly. “I’m not used to any of this either. I actually get the same reactions you do.”

Of course he did. Bud had nearly passed out when Renard had dropped some of his shields and let the eisbiber feel who he was facing. 

“So, when do you move?”

Nick blinked, drawn out of his thoughts. Renard was watching him calmly.

“Victoria, the estate agents Frank referred to me, is coming over tomorrow. She says she’ll list the house the moment I’m out. To avoid possible… encounters.”

Renard closed the distance between them and hooked his fingers into the waist band of Nick’s jeans, pulling him close. He kissed the smaller man, a soft, loving contact.

“I hope you aren’t planning to live in that trailer of yours,” he murmured.

“No. Of course not.” Brows lowered.

Sean smiled wordlessly. Of course he knew about the trailer. Of course Nick had known that he knew. And it had never been talked about or had come up before.

Just like it was a topic dropped immediately.

“I have an option on a house,” Nick told him, enjoying the close contact. 

There had been too little of it lately. Case work. Grimm cases. The house. Renard had been doing the political dance and while Nick knew more about it, some still went right over his head. 

“Show me?” Renard prodded.

The Grimm tilted his head a little, then a slow smile crossed his lips. “Alright.”

*

The house was at the end of a side road, away from the direct neighbors, surrounded by trees and bushes that, while giving the yard and garden privacy, didn’t obstruct too much of the view. Looking at it with from a strategic angle, it was the best there was in this neighborhood. At this time of the year the trees were bare of leaves, just showing a hint of possible spring feelings as the branches looked greener than before, and the bushes had yet to even start into spring. A few early dandelions poked out of the ground.

It was a cool day, the sun out but not really warming anything, and the sky was bright blue with clouds. There were hints of another hail or strong rain shower coming from the ocean. 

The house was well-kept. It looked like someone had painted it withint he last twelve months, the roof had no missing shindles and the gutters were clean. It was smaller than Nick’s current living space, but it fulfilled all his needs. A garage was attached to the left and a porch wrapped around the small gem.

Renard regarded it silently, sharp eyes taking in everything. His gaze flicked to the neighboring houses. It was quiet, almost sedate. His nostrils flared a little, as if he was taking in someone’s scent. With the park across the road, a setting not unlike Monroe’s own small house, it was perfect for a Grimm.

Green eyes met gray. Nick smiled.

“Only an option,” he answered the unspoken question. “The original owner moved out a week ago. She’s on her way to Maine. The agent is still hacking out the details. But I think I can get it for a reasonable price. And Bud has already declared dibs on checking out the repair status.”

He shrugged, clearly unwell again with the eisbiber’s willingness to help like that.

“Who are the neighbors?” Sean asked.

“An old lady who I talked to for about two hours, about her growing up in this neighborhood, her cats, her dogs, her husband, her kids, and whatever else came to her mind. Very nice woman. Not a wesen.” 

Renard nodded.

“And on the other side is an elderly couple who reassured me it’s a quiet place and having a police officer around would make it even saver.” Nick grimaced. “No wesen either. I think there is a family of hares and a maushertz couple in one of the other houses. I hope me moving in here won’t drive them out.”

“It won’t,” was the quiet, firm answer.

Nick didn’t question it, just cast his mate a neutral look. Renard was still looking at the house, a hard to read expression in his eyes.

“Objections?” the Grimm asked.

“No,” came the soft answer. “The house is fine. The neighborhood looks good.”

“But?”

The green eyes gazed at him, shuttered, the bond quiet. Shields, Nick realized.

He frowned.

“I can’t,” he finally said, taking a shot in the dark.

Apparently he had come close to a bull’s eye because there was a brief surge of emotions over the connection. Standing close together, still enough apart to appear like nothing but friends viewing the house, the Grimm let his own shields drop, opening up, and the next surge told him.

They had never openly talked about it, but moving in with Renard was out of the question. Not just because of the fact that Renard was his superior officer, that the whole relationship was one big secret both men had been very good at hiding from their colleagues. It was also the fact that Nick was the Grimm. Yes, he served Renard in a way; a very twisted, not very clear to others way. The Guardian had risked a lot to keep him safe. Maybe it wouldn’t be that out of the ordinary for the mate to move in with his mate, but Nick didn’t want to risk their safety.

He also didn’t want to bring work – police of Grimm – home. And if they were ever to have a home together it wouldn’t be the penthouse. That was Renard’s place, his choice, his personal space. He had decorated it, made it his home, and Nick, while calling it home once in a while, had never said it with the emotions attached to a true home. 

It would have to be a place new for both of them. Right now, their own places were their personal refuges. 

The green eyes, filled with the same longing Nick felt, warmed a little. Renard nodded, clearly aware and understanding the unspoken words.

“Lunch?” Nick asked.

It was Sunday. He was free all day. No Grimm stuff, no police work, and while he had promised Monroe to go out to the trailer later today to sort through another trunk full of Grimm stuff – something that fascinated the blutbad to no end – he had nothing planned before that.

Nothing but be with Sean, quiet, private moments that hadn’t come up often enough lately.

“Lunch,” the other man agreed, twitching a smile.

Lunch and maybe more, that smile promised. Nick smiled back. That sounded just fine.

* * *

The house was his by the end of the month. At a very reasonable price after Frank Rabe’s estate agent friend had stepped in, had had a word with the other agent, and they had come to some kind of agreement. Bud was all over the place and drawing up a new list, something Nick was trying to grab out of his hands and make him finally attached a price tag.

No such luck.

“Buy the materials, dude,” Monroe told him. “They won’t accept your money, get them to work with the stuff you buy. Easy.”

The blutbad looked around the empty house, Nick’s future home, and nodded to himself. 

“Nice digs. Good basement, too. You don’t find them like that very often.”

And still close to Monroe’s and not at all much further to Sean’s place. It had been the perfect compromise.

“When are you moving?”

Nick, hands stuffed in his pockets, shrugged. “The sale is agreed. I made a down payment. I can move in my stuff whenever I want.”

“Give me a call.”

Nick smiled. “Will do.”

They checked out the basement, which was a perfect place to not just store stuff but also probably hide Grimm things from the trailer. Nick would have to think about it.

Monroe was already in love with it, but he looked positively delighted at the large garden. It would have to be weeded and taken care of, probably some bushes cut back, the grass needed to be mowed, but it was really a good-sized piece of land. 

Yes, the house had been a good choice, Nick told himself silently. A really good choice.

* * *

Another two months later Nick was throwing a homewarming party in the backyard of his new house. The sale of his own place had been lightning fast. The house hadn’t even been listed for a week when Victoria had told him she had a buyer and when could they move in?

The buyers were human.

The party was actually two parties. One involved his friends from work, those who knew nothing about what a Grimm or a wesen was. It was a small thing, all of them having fondue, looking around the smaller place, having a good time. Hank proudly announced how he had whacked the yard in shape, which eh truly had. Nick had been amazed by his partner’s gardening skills. The man had taken down the old shed with Wu’s help and they had mowed the lawn, pruned the bushes, checked the fence, and whatnot.

“Third wife was a landscape artist,” had been Hank’s explanation with a shrug. “Some of it rubbed off.”

That had been food for teasing. But the yard did look amazing. Wu had insisted on a barbecue shed instead of the rickety old thing, and now Nick was the owner of a very professional barbecue station that would probably feed an army. He knew what that meant for summers to come. 

The bigger event was the second housewarming. The yard was filled with wesen of all kinds, some of them knowing the other, some warily watching a possible predator. Monroe moved easily between the two groups, helping to ease the tension. The eisbiber handymen milled with a jagerbar and a lausenschlange, and some were shooting Renard careful looks since they were aware of who and what he was, though Nick’s mate was shielding himself quite well. The Grimm had invited the hare family and the maushertz couple, though he hadn’t really believed in their appearances.

They had come.

Timid and shy and very close to bolting just because he greeted them, but they had been there. Bud had tried his best to reassure them that Nick was a good guy, but three predators and a regnant were a lot. Bewilderment reigned.

“Thank you for coming, for giving me a chance,” Nick told the hares, Linda and Bruce Stoltz, who were clutching their sodas.

They stared at him with big eyes. “You’re a Grimm!” Linda blurted.

“I am. But that has nothing to do with the invitation. I don’t want to be the neighborhood bogeyman.”

She exchanged quick looks with her husband, then glanced at where Zoe, the maushertz girl who lived with her boyfriend/soon-to-be-husband Gary, was having a rather animated chat with an eisbiber.

“Bud told us you aren’t like the stories say. He told us to come.”

“Told you?”

“He came by. Said he and his friends are working on your house. He said you helped them against hässlichen.” She played with the soda. “And that you always help. You don’t kill for… fun…”

He had been a Grimm long enough not to let those old preconceptions get to him, but it still touched something inside him. Nick had never been that person, nor would he ever be. There were still too many wesen out there, in Portland, who didn’t understand that he wasn’t a nightmarish tale come alive to hunt them down.

“And you’re a Guardian’s mate,” Bruce said, voice a mixture of fear and awe. 

“None of that had anything to do with me inviting you. You’re my neighbors and you know exactly who I am,” he clarified. “What I want is a friendly, neighborly relationship.”

They nodded, then both suddenly shrank back and Nick was about to roll his eyes. He didn’t need to ask. He felt his mate’s presence, felt his closeness.

“Your highness,” Linda stammered.

Good god! Nick shot the taller man a glare. At least Sean’s shields were up and there wasn’t a hint of regnant to be seen or felt. This was just an automatic reaction.

And then the hares were off, fleeing to where Zoe was laughing at something Bud had said. Phoebe was also there, Nick noticed. She was a nice woman and truly loved her husband.

“Not helping,” he muttered to Renard.

Brows rose in a ‘what?’ expression that was far too amused for Nick’s liking. He elbowed his mate and that drew a smile.

“You can’t change their behavior, Nick. Not towards you, not towards me. Having the mate of the protectorate’s Guardian living in their neighborhood, knowing he’s a Grimm… it unsettles them.”

“Which is why I wanted them here, see that we’re not different.”

“But we… you… are.” Renard looked serious for a moment. 

Nick’s lips became a thin line, aware that his shields had come up automatically once more, but all Sean did was empty his bottle and walk off in search for another. 

 

tbc...


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys, but Real Life interfered.
> 
> All good things must come to an end and so has this fic. No worries, I'm planning a fourth part to the series :) 
> 
> Thanks for the support throughout the lengthy fic that was never planned to run this long. You all kept me going!

All in all it went rather well. There was enough to feed the small army that had taken over his place, and Nick enjoyed the get-together as much as he could with the surreptitious looks he was given by some of the guests. Phoebe was talking to the hares and maushertz, trying to ease their fears, and she came by often to push something to eat at him. The eisbiber had brought a ton of dessert and Nick just knew they wouldn’t take it home with them.

Bud was giving the house a calculating once-over and Nick staved off whatever was coming with a sharp look. He knew the eisbiber had been going over a possible new paint job for the outside. But Nick had put his foot down. Firmly.

Frank came over to him, Victoria in tow, both holding a beer. Bud visibly fought his first instinct to melt into the background. He squared his shoulders and stood his ground. Nick smiled at the two predator wesen. Victoria was a tall, slender woman with shoulder length, dark hair and a sharply cut face. He had only seen her shift once, when they had been introduced, and it had been her way of openly showing him who she was. 

“Thank you for the invitation, Nick,” Victoria said, raising her beer bottle. “I like what you did with the house. Very… homey.” She inclined her head toward Renard, who was several feet away, talking to Monroe. 

The regnant only smiled briefly and turned back to Monroe. 

“Yeah, well, thanks. And thanks for the help in selling mine, as well as getting this one.”

She smiled, showing white teeth. It was almost feral. “It would have been too bad if the seller had taken advantage of you. Or his agent.”

Nick frowned and she laughed, waving off his suspicion. 

“No, I didn’t do anything. We had a talk. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.”

Victoria laughed, a pleasant, amused laughter. “There were no threats involved. It was a matter of professional behavior and conduct. It had nothing to do with you being who you are, detective.”

He gave her a skeptical look. 

“Mostly,” she amended. “Frank told me how you helped his family, how you helped him. A lot of us, actually.”

Nick evaded her eyes. “If he told you about the case you know I had to arrest his wife and his son.”

“I know what happened. You acted as an officer of the law. As a Grimm you could simply have killed her, their son, maybe even Frank.”

He grimaced.

“You’re special, Nick Burkhardt. It was my honor to help you. Should you want to sell this property again, let me know.” Victoria smiled more. “You will get a bill for my services then.”

Nick laughed. “That would be very much appreciated!”

They clinked beer bottles.

*

An arm wrapped around his middle, pulled him back against a hard body, and lips descended on his neck. Nick smiled and felt blood pool in his groin when blunt teeth lightly bit his skin.  
The house was silent, with everyone gone, but it looked like a hurricane had swept through. Nick didn’t care right now. He felt pleasantly buzzed from a beer too many, stuffed full of delicious steaks and the occasional vegetable skewer, and right now his body was thrumming with the response to the increased presence of his mate. The bond between them was singing, open and completely unshielded, and the warm hands on his body were wonderful.

Renard wrapped both arms around Nick’s waist, holding him tightly, burying his face in the warm juncture of neck and shoulder. He pushed a hand under Nick’s dark blue shirt, meeting skin, brushing over the deceptive softness that covered hard muscle.

Nick turned his head, meeting Renard’s lips in a sloppy kiss, then he turned in the embrace. Sean let him, loosening his hold, then Nick’s lips were on his mate’s, claiming, wanting, needing, relaying a lot that had never been said before. Renard started to push him toward the bedroom and Nick chuckled against the reddened lips.

Clothes were shed.

Nick took the opportunity to bite Renard’s shoulder, drawing a rumble that spoke of the primal side coming forward, like called to the Grimm, who was playing with fire.

And he loved playing.

A lot.

Because even if Sean lost control to a degree, even if claws pushed out and sharp teeth renewed the claim mark, Renard would never truly hurt him. 

It was also arousing as nothing else Nick had ever tried before. 

Like right now.

He was rock hard, aching, wanting, but not ready to roll over and give himself to his mate. Well, he was on his back and Renard was perched over him, pinning him down, mapping his body with his hands and mouth, but Nick wasn’t passive. He was far from it. He was also far from submissive.

He clenched his fists into the sheets when Sean parted his legs, stroking his thighs. Then he gasped, moaning at the moist heat that engulfed him and his hips twitched involuntarily. 

And Renard was good. He was damned good and there were teeth! Nick cried out at the sensation of slightly too sharp teeth that didn’t hurt, that only stimulated more, that stoked a fire in him he had never known to possess. Strong hands clamped down on his hips, holding him as the suction increased.

“Sean!” he groaned.

Nick was already beyond coherent thinking when he sensed a slick finger entering him, then two, searching, finding and ruthlessly stroking him from the inside. 

Seconds later the fingers were removed, and Sean’s weight was pressing him down as his lover slid into him with one fluid motion. Nick was close to screaming when his mate didn’t move, just grabbed his hands, entwining their fingers. He looked down at Nick, panting hard, and the fire of passion and hunger and something else that was still burning in his eyes made Nick tremble with an answering need. 

Gold rimmed the green eyes. The Grimm responded to the wesen’s primal aura, pushing back, his own power flaring, and Renard’s lips peeled back over lengthening canines. 

Sean pushed a little deeper.

Nick clenched his muscles and the gold flared more.

“Nick…” Renard breathed.

“No games,” Nick whispered harshly. “I want you so bad!”

His mate’s eyes were screwed shut, nostrils flaring, as he was trying to rein in his instinctive reaction.

Nick pulled him into a kiss that was more like a battle, like a fight for dominance, and he only pulled away to sink his teeth into the other man’s neck.

It was like that was what tore away the chains.

Renard thrust into his mate, making Nick’s eyes roll up in bliss. He pushed back as the other thrust harder, faster, claiming him, wanting him as much as Nick wanted him.

There was no slow and sensual this time, just pure and simple need and lust, hard and deep, and hell if Nick would complain. He actually egged Sean on. 

Slowing a little, Renard twisted his hips, moving in tiny circles, knowing it drove the Grimm wild, and the heated look he received only had him smile darkly. Pulling out and then resheathing himself deeply, had Nick close his eyes, mouth opening in a soundless gasp. Renard did it again and Nick’s fingers clenched into the blanket.

It was him who screamed out his completion the moment Sean reached his own and bit down on his neck, and he heard his mate’s rough and deep answering groan as Renard closely followed him over the edge.

Nick knew the teeth had broken skin, had felt the brief pain, saw the flecks of his own blood on Sean’s lips, who licked off the last traces. The bond was wide open, echoing their emotions, the psychic link alive with each other’s presence.

Renard bent down, the kiss gentler, calming, almost apologetic, and Nick drew him into an embrace, both men spent and still breathing hard. He smiled as he felt the flood of emotions touch him, emotions Sean never really talked about, emotions Nick knew existed between them.

“Mine,” he murmured into Sean’s ear.

He felt the lips pressed against the mark curl into a smile.

“Yours,” Renard answered drowsily.

Nick felt his eyes droop a little. The day was catching up on him and while he knew they were sticky and disgusting, he couldn’t summon the drive to find a wet towel. That would have meant getting up. He really wasn’t up for up.

Renard chuckled, sharing the sentiment.

* * *

He was watching. 

He liked watching.

Maybe it made him a voyeur, but he couldn't help it. Well, most of the times he couldn't help it. It was like an obsession. Nick Burkhardt was an obsession, an addiction and a dangerous fire that couldn’t be tamed or contained, but he was always drawn to it.

He watched covertly – and not so covertly. Being psychically bonded to the man had its disadvantages. But most of the time he was rather good at the undercover surveillance. Sean Renard had his ways and he was good in wearing masks. He could watch and still appear not to be interested at all. At least when they were among those who didn’t know a thing about their true relationship.

He had preferences, too. Like nudity. Nudity was… very nice. 

Renard loved seeing his mate naked, liked to see the strength and power incarnate in the Grimm. He liked to touch, to kiss, to nibble. He also liked to claim what was his and still feel the power that told him that he belonged to Nick just as completely. 

Totally and completely. He needed the Grimm so badly. So hard. And he felt so… intensely. It had come over him like a tidal wave and it refused to let him go.

Nick fed that obsession Sean had with his mate. Well, he wasn't obsessive like a fanatic follower. It was more like… he couldn't think of changing anything between them. Renard couldn't imagine someone else at his side. He couldn't think of a time he wouldn't love this man, despite all their arguments and heated discussions and different views on a subject matter – pick one, any one. 

They would bicker, he would growl, Nick would snap back, they would work out their differences. And they would also work harmoniously together, like so many times before. They understood each other; perfectly. He had opened up like to no one else before.

Renard could recall his sister’s fond expression that was so incredibly clear despite the video feed distortion.

“Bonds do that, Sean,” she had told him, voice soft and filled with emotions.

Mireille Luce Renard was mated herself; Andrew was her strength. She knew what he felt and despite the fact that Renard hated to talk about his emotions or anything else with his sister, she knew. Years of no contact than the occasional Christmas card, but she knew.

Mated regnants could understand.

Well, maybe not his brother, who was an ass – and a mated one at that – but his sister did. And she had encouraged him to give in completely.

Then again, Sean wouldn’t really have needed that encouragement. Nick was everything to him. 

His eyes strayed to the man in question and he bit his lower lip at the sight. 

Nick was still asleep. He had been after a serial killer who had gone after the homeless, killing five within just one week. A schattenreich had been involved and it had been a nasty take-down. Schattenreich lived in the shadows, fed off the sick and dying, and were found mostly following street people around. This one had gotten too hungry, too greedy, and the Grimm had had to take him down.

For good.

Renard knew it had sat on his mate; Nick hated killing.

The Grimm had simply crashed at Sean’s place without much ado. He had come in, taken a shower, fallen onto the mattress, and he had been asleep within minutes.

Sean could feel the sleeping mind along the connection and he was wary not to disturb the exhausted man. He was working, using his laptop, a noise level his mate was used to, but he kept his shields up. 

Nick moved lazily. Renard's eyes were on the prone man again. Nick was on his side, on top of the blanket, muscular legs showing, up to a nicely shaped butt that was outlined against the gray material of the shorts. The dark blue t-shirt did nothing to hide the lithe physique and Renard tore his gaze away.

Something trickled along the bond and Nick rolled onto his back, one arm flung out over the empty spot beside him. Renard watched and studied the sleeping features.

There had been a lot of pain lately, the fear and the agony of possibly losing Nick. The bond was between their minds and souls, as tacky as it sounded, and losing Nick would kill him. Literally. It would open up a black hole of despair. Renard didn’t want to go through that again. 

He saved the work he had been trying to do and closed the laptop. It was late – or early, depending on your point of view – and he would need at least a few hours of sleep. He stripped in the bathroom, brushed his teeth, slipped into his pajamas, and silently padded over to the huge bed. He tried to be careful, but the mattress dipping had Nick blink his eyes open.

Sean admired how there was never a moment of confusion, how those gray depths fixed on his with a brief intensity that seemed to scan him right down to his soul. It was the Grimm examining him, stripping him bare, assessing the danger, and the wesen inside Renard responded. Not aggressively, not like a challenge, just letting the other predator know who he was. It was such a brief moment, barely there, but it told him how far Nick had come.

So very, very far. He had accomplished so much, it was breathtaking. It was reassuring in a dangerously dark sort of way.

Nick murmured sleepily and snuggled close. An arm was thrown over his waist and he enjoyed the physical closeness that was echoed by warm pulses through the bond.

No words were exchanged.

None were needed, with the bond between them humming softly.

fin!


End file.
